Without a Heart
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: COMPLETE. AU. Han survives the confrontation with his son, but there's a cost.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Everybody knows I don't own Star Wars, especially given that I never would have killed Han. Well . . . I've become rather obsessed lately with thinking about how he could survive TFA and I decided to experiment with one of those ideas in a fanfic. Incidentally, should the people at Lucasfilm decide to use the same idea, I WHOLEHEARTEDLY GIVE THEM MY BLESSING TO DO SO. Go ahead, don't credit me, don't pay me any royalties, I don't care, just bring Han back!

And in case you were wondering, yes, my "Defenders of the Force" fics are still on, but I feel like I need to get TFA out of my system before I can continue them.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 1

"Thank you . . ."

Kylo Ren yanked the lightsaber out of his father's chest, ripping through his innards, setting a fire that burned every part of his body. Han gasped for the life-giving air that wouldn't come, voicelessly cried out in searing pain, a realization of what was happening slowly penetrating the fog that was overtaking his mind.

He was dying.

Death . . . the thing he had always been terrified of, the thing he had spent the better part of his life running from . . . it was happening . . . death . . . he was dying . . . _dying . . ._ and this time there was no way to cheat it . . .

The world in front of his eyes was blackening . . . but there was his son . . . the bringer of his death . . . his son had _killed him_ . . . the world was fading . . . no . . . he couldn't go out yet . . . just one more moment . . . please, just one more moment . . . _oh shit he was dying!_

Ben's face was still there, like a moon in the rapidly-growing darkness. Han didn't know where he got the strength to do so, but somewhere in the fog was the ability to reach out to his son one final time. His hand brushed Ben's cheek, that cheek he had squeezed countless times, that cheek he had wiped tears from countless times, still Ben's cheek, still the son he loved . . .

Then he was falling.

Falling . . . falling . . . falling . . . falling into death . . . falling away from his wife and son forever . . .

And there was nothing.

. . .

"We are gathered here today to pay tribute to the life of one of the galaxy's greatest heroes. A man who was not only a great pilot, but a friend, a husband . . . and a father."

Leia was amazed by how calm she could make herself sound, even when performing her own husband's funeral, even when all she wanted to do was lock herself in her room and cry. But no, here, in front of the Resistance, she had to be General Organa, the courageous leader, the beacon of hope for the galaxy.

The one who never cried.

"General Han Solo was a rare kind of person. The kind who could drive you crazy one minute and charm you the next."

She stood in front of a display that contained as many holos of Han as she could find, along with various possessions of his such as the medal he'd been awarded after the Battle of Yavin and even one of his old vests. There was no coffin, since Han's body had exploded with Starkiller Base. It felt wrong to have a funeral without a body, but what choice did they have?

"Beneath that rough exterior was a brave, caring, compassionate person whom I was proud to call my husband."

In the front line of mourners stood Rey, Poe, Chewie, the three droids . . . and Luke. Leia had barely gotten to talk to her brother since his return – in fact, he hadn't talked much to anyone. Maybe it was Han's death or maybe it was just that he'd lived alone for so long, but there seemed to be a barrier around him that wasn't there before.

"He was taken from us far too soon, but we can honor his memory by not resting until the First Order is stopped and there is peace in the galaxy once more. When we remember how he never gave up without a fight, we too can find his courage in us."

He never gave up without a fight. Except when he _hadn't_ fought their son.

"His death will not be in vain. He would want us to keep fighting until the First Order is vanquished."

Why had she written so many nothings into her speech? Why was she turning it into propaganda for the Resistance? Was she _using_ her husband's death as a tool to motivate people?

"And now, if anyone else wants to say a few words on Han's behalf, they may come up and do so."

Predictably, Chewie was the first to volunteer. As the Wookiee made his way to the podium, 3PO eagerly hobbled up next to him, volunteering to translate Chewie's words. Leia couldn't help but imagine the look on her husband's face if he knew 3PO was speaking at his funeral.

As Chewie gave his speech, Leia managed to slip into the crowd of mourners, next to Rey. The former scavenger stared ahead at the holos of Han, tears streaming down her face one after the other. Leia put her hand on the young woman's shoulder, though she knew that would do little good.

"Why does it hurt so much?" Rey whispered. "I only knew him those few days . . . but it feels like I knew him forever." She slowly turned to face Leia with red eyes. "It's ridiculous . . . I know it . . . but he was the closest thing to a father I ever had."

Leia wrapped her arm around Rey's shoulders, trying to ignore the invisible fist squeezing her heart. The closest thing to a father she ever had . . . and yet Han's _real_ child had killed him.

She swallowed, looking to the side, trying to get a glimpse of Luke, who was simply staring ahead, not acknowledging anyone. She didn't know what words were exchanged when Rey found him; she didn't know what they had told each other.

But she knew what Luke _hadn't_ told Rey.

. . .

So . . . this was death.

Han had heard many stories about what might happen to non-Force-sensitives after they died without believing any of them. Sure, Luke had told him about Force ghosts, but they had the _Force,_ which he didn't. He had always expected that he would just _end_ when he died, go into a dreamless sleep and never wake up.

But he was thinking . . . which meant he still had something that resembled consciousness. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified. There may be consciousness in his afterlife or whatever this was, but what _else_ was there?

Whatever it was, it didn't resemble any of the stories Han remembered. It was dark . . . completely dark, and instead of floating around, free of his body, he felt weighed down, as if he were strapped in something. There was a dull pain, too, centered on where his chest might be if he were still in his body . . . maybe it was some trace memory of his last moments alive.

And there was the _sound._

It went in, out, in, out, in, out, a hiss that resembled Vader's mechanical breath, except this was weaker, raspier, as if Vader were gasping with every breath – if that were possible. Was this punishment for bringing another Vader into the galaxy?

Was this all there was? Would this trapped feeling and torturous sound go on _forever?_

"So Han Solo, you're finally awake."

That voice! Ben's voice . . . was _he_ dead too? Did Chewie avenge Han's death before Ben could redeem himself?

"I know you're awake, Han Solo, so OPEN YOUR EYES!"

Eyes? He had eyes? He could _open_ his eyes?

Where _were_ his eyes?

"OPEN THEM NOW!"

His son's voice sent a jolt of pain into his ears . . . wait, _ears_ . . . ears were close to the eyes, right? He concentrated on that general area . . . yes, these were eyes . . . he still had eyes and ears in whatever form he had taken after death.

His eyes opened.

At first there was only a large sea of blurs . . . white blurs . . . black blurs . . . maybe some other colors too. Where was Ben? Would he even _look_ like Ben in whatever this afterlife was? Maybe he was one of these blurs . . . maybe every blur was a dead person . . . maybe Han himself was a blur . . .

But then he blinked . . . wait, why did he still need to blink when he was dead? All right, whatever, it wasn't like he knew the rules of being dead. He blinked again, again, again, and every time the blurs seemed to shrink into actual shapes. Finally one of the large black blurs took on the shape of a person . . . there he was . . . there was Ben, standing over Han, no mask, glaring down at his father.

"I thought I was finally rid of you," he snarled. "A great weight had finally been lifted from me – but then Supreme Leader Snoke decided that you were worth something alive and ordered us to fix you."

 _Fix_ him?

Wait . . . _alive?_

He wasn't dead?

 _He wasn't dead?_

"B-B . . ." He had to concentrate his entire being on his mouth just to utter one sound. "B-B . . ." His voice was a raspy whisper. "B-B-Beeennn . . ."

"THAT'S NOT MY NAME!" Ben shouted, baring his teeth like a wild animal.

"W-Well . . . I-I ain't . . . callin' you anything else . . ." Why couldn't Han speak anything louder than this raspy whisper?

And if he was alive, then where was this Vader breathing sound coming from?

Now a wicked grin was slowly spreading across Ben's face. "You have many questions . . . oh yes, I sense it." He leaned in closer to his father. "Do you want answers? Well for starters, you've been unconscious for weeks."

"N-noooot the first t-time . . ."

Ben smirked. "Carbon freezing? You think that's the worst thing that ever happened to you? Allow me to prove you wrong." His grin was starting to resemble Palpatine's. "Go on, look."

Han slowly, painfully turned his stiff head – and only now did he feel the tube in his neck. His mouth automatically made the motions of a gasp . . . but no air was sucked in, no air came out . . . no air was coming in or out of his nose or mouth _at all._

He wanted to pant in terror . . . but he couldn't pant . . . he couldn't _breathe._ With great effort, he turned his head further, seeing that he was strapped into a bed of some sort, a blanket covering his legs, but he seemed to be naked.

That wasn't what captured his attention, though.

What captured his attention was the gray metal plate enclosing his chest . . . no, embedded _in_ his chest. _In_ his chest . . . and the tube in his neck was plugged into it.

Suddenly dizziness overcame him like he was about to faint. Maybe he _would_ have fainted if his son's voice hadn't distracted him ever so slightly.

"You didn't think you could have a lightsaber go through your heart and be perfectly all right afterwards, did you?" He tapped the plate with his finger, the sound ringing in Han's ears. "You can't breathe on your own anymore – you're just like my grandfather now." His finger ran up to the spot over where Han's heart would be, rubbing it up and down. "And that's no longer a heart that beats inside you." His grin never faded as he savored every word. "It's a machine. A machine that can be turned off."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Yes, this fic uses a popular fan theory (which I'm 95% sure is going to turn out to be true anyway – the movie seemed to strongly hint at it throughout).

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 2

"Luke, we need to talk."

Luke barely looked up from the Falcon's game table, where he had been vaguely drumming his artificial fingers for the last several minutes. Leia was leaning over him, bringing prominence to the dark circles under her eyes. "What, Leia?" he asked in a gloomy voice.

"It's about Rey," said Leia.

"What about her?"

"You _know_ what. Luke, it's been almost a month – when are you going to start her training?"

Luke sighed, glancing back down at the table. "I've given her a bunch of material to read."

"You know that's not enough." Leia slid into the seat next to her brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She needs a teacher, Luke."

The old Jedi's eyes widened at her. " _Why_ are you asking me to do this after what happened to Ben? Han's dead because of _me,_ all the other Jedi I trained are dead because of _me_ , including my . . ." He couldn't bring himself to utter the last word. ". . . no, I can't do it again. I can't risk losing Rey the way you lost Ben."

Leia's eyes lowered as her hand slowly slipped off of Luke's shoulder. "And are you ever going to tell her the truth, or are you going to be like Obi-Wan and keep her father's identity a secret?"

Luke swallowed several times, his mechanical fingers curling. "She considers Han a father now." He glanced up at the chair where Han had sat when he first scoffed the Force. "At least Han was _there_ for her, however briefly." He blinked rapidly to keep the stray tears in his eyes. "Better than a father who _left_ her."

Leia looked like she didn't know how to respond to that, but after a deep breath she put her hand back on her brother's shoulder. "Luke . . . Han's dead, Finn's still in a coma . . . she's lost so much in such a short time." She slightly cocked her head in her brother's direction. "And she'll find out who her father is sooner or later, you know that."

Luke swallowed, again becoming interested in the game table's pattern. "I can't tell her," he whispered. "How can I _ever_ explain what I did?"

The general blew a small bit of air out of her mouth. "Well, maybe you could practice by explaining it to _me,_ since I don't really understand it either."

Luke looked up, gazing into his sister's eyes. "Neither do I."

. . .

" _Daddy! Taun-taun ride!"_

" _Okay son, hold on!" Han hoisted little Ben onto his back, where the child wrapped his arms around his father's neck. "Hope you're dressed warmly, cause we're goin' to Hoth!"_

 _Han trotted around the living room, doing his best to imitate taun-taun noises while his son giggled and shrieked and pressed him to go faster._

" _Oh no!" Han shouted after a few circles around the room. "The sun's goin' down!" He carefully sank to his knees. "Too . . . cold . . . the taun-taun's . . . freezing to . . . death." Slowly, so as not to drop the child, he leaned forward and collapsed to the ground._

" _Uh-oh!" said Ben as he rolled off of his father._

" _Ben," said Han in a pretend gasping voice, "if you wanna stay alive durin' the cold Hoth night, you're gonna have to . . ." He opened a side of his vest. ". . . cut the taun-taun open and crawl into its guts!"_

 _The child started laughing so hard that he sounded in danger of getting hiccups. "Okay Daddy, I'll cut you open!"_

 _Suddenly there was a red lightsaber in his hands, which he thrust into his father's chest._

Han woke up with a start, his body wanting to gasp but once again unable to do so. The _sound_ was back, the raspy mechanical breathing that never changed. He wondered if Vader's breathing ever drove _him_ crazy like this.

"Having a nightmare?"

Han opened his eyes and there was his son, the first time he had shown up in a few days – at least Han _thought_ it was a few days. Every so often a stormtrooper or two would show up to feed him or empty his bedpan or do whatever it was they did to maintain the thing in his chest, but he spent most of his time alone, drifting in and out of sleep, lacking the strength to get out of bed even if they didn't keep him strapped down. It was probably only a matter of time before all his muscles wasted away.

"Do you remember when your son had nightmares?" Ben continued, leaning in closer to his father. "How he would come to your bed and beg for comfort?"

"Yeah," Han said in the raspy whisper that was now his voice, "and I _gave_ him comfort. Leia and me _both_ did."

Ben's eyebrows went down. "No," he spat, "you would just tell him to get into bed with you and go back to sleep. He told you about his nightmares, but you never _understood_ them." He leaned in closer, reaching an uncomfortable proximity. "Tell me, what are _your_ nightmares like?"

Without waiting for an answer, Ben put his hand on his father's forehead, squeezing his temples, sending pain jolting through his head. "I see . . . oh yes, I see . . . you foolishly mourn your son . . . you fear that he will never return to you. Well rest assured that he _won't._ " He pressed harder, making Han cry out as best as his voice could manage. "So much guilt . . . so much regret . . . and your wife, you worry about your wife. How is she faring now that she thinks you're dead?" By now the pain was shaking Han's body, making sweat explode out of his pores. "You fear what will come next . . . you don't know how to live with your new situation . . . you almost wish you had just died when you were cut open, don't you?" Now it felt like his fingers were digging into Han's skull. "Yet you still think there's a glimmer of hope . . . some part of you believes that your friends will still come to rescue you."

He abruptly removed his hand, once more making Han want to gasp, but once more nothing came out of his mouth and the Vader-like breath was still as steady as always. He imagined that his heart would be racing if he still had one. Why did it take something as drastic as losing his heart to make him appreciate something as simple as a heartbeat?

"Let me put your hope to rest," Ben said with a snarl. "The dark side is strong here and no weak Jedi senses will penetrate it." Again he was giving that wicked grin. "Everyone you know thinks you're dead, Han Solo. _No one_ is coming to rescue you."

. . .

Luke cautiously entered the base's cafeteria, which where he had last seen Rey, who had been vigorously studying the datapads he'd given her. The room was quiet and empty - except that Rey was still there, slumped over a table in the corner, fast asleep. One of the datapads was tucked under her hand, still turned on.

The Jedi swallowed, reasoning that she must have been studying all day. Her breath was steady, but there was a slight twitch in her cheeks, which left Luke staring and remembering.

Remembering a baby girl whose cheeks twitched when she slept.

Squeezing those cheeks, kissing those cheeks, pinching those cheeks.

Listening to the high baby laugh.

Before everything changed.

He slowly took off his cloak and gently draped it over her, which caused her to stir but not wake. Her cheeks twitched again, once more bringing that baby to Luke's head, the little girl he had never forgotten during his self-imposed exile.

"Sleep well, daughter," he whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks again to all the readers and reviewers!

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 3

Pinky toes, middle toes, big toes . . . pinky toes, middle toes, big toes . . .

Han could still wiggle his toes, which meant his body hadn't completely wasted away yet. All right, now the fingers. Pinky fingers, ring fingers, middle fingers, pointer fingers, thumbs. He could still wiggle those too. Carefully, he pressed his wrists and ankles against the restraints that held them, bringing fresh pain to the sores that had developed. Good, his arms and legs could still move too.

The _sound_ droned on, in, out, in, out, in, out, never ending, always drilling into his ears, keeping him on edge, bringing images of Vader into his mind no matter how much he tried to push them out. Would he ever get used to his new form of breathing?

Then again, would he _live_ long enough to get used to it?

A stormtrooper entered the room, saying nothing as he (or she?) approached Han and began examining the device in his chest.

"Hey," Han said, still not used to his new raspy voice, "I was just wonderin', do the amenities here happen to include a bath?"

The stormtrooper said nothing.

"Or a toothbrush?" Han continued. "Or _clothes?_ Gettin' a bit tired of bein' naked all the time. _"_

The stormtrooper still said nothing as he or she pressed some buttons in the device. Of course, no one had the courtesy to tell Han how the thing _worked_ or what the buttons did.

But Han wasn't giving up on conversation. Surely he at least deserved some small talk after all he'd been through. "Ya know, one of you troopers is a friend of mine. Maybe you know him? F-N . . . followed by some numbers . . . well anyway, he goes by Finn now. Big deal, that guy."

Still there was nothing. The stormtrooper continued whatever it was he or she was doing as if Han weren't even there, then in a few minutes he or she left, still without saying a word.

Han wanted to sigh in frustration before he remembered that he couldn't. He would never sigh again. Sighs, gasps, pants – who would have thought he would miss those simple abilities so much?

Pinky toes, middle toes, big toes . . . pinky toes, middle toes, big toes . . .

. . .

Why didn't Finn wake up?

Every morning Rey went to see the ex-stormtrooper and every morning the medical droids simply told her there was "no change" in his condition. She would sit by him, watching his chest rise and fall, listening to his heart monitor, wishing she could do something to help him, but nothing ever changed.

Today was no different.

"Finn," she whispered, gently stroking his forehead, "I know you can't hear me, but we're leaving today. Don't worry, you're coming with us." She swallowed, running her finger down his nose. "We're going to Coruscant. Leia's cousin is the chancellor of the senate – she might be able to help us." Her finger now traced around his chin. "And there are great hospitals there – you might could get some better treatment . . . maybe you'll even wake up."

Her hand slipped off his face and slowly began clenching. "Maybe Luke will finally start my Force training. And once I learn about the Force, if I ever see Kylo Ren again, I'll make him pay for what he did to you and Han." She gazed down at his closed eyes. "I promise."

. . .

"Grandfather . . . help me . . ."

Kylo Ren felt naked without his mask. Why hadn't he picked it up before Starkiller Base exploded? Maybe if he were safely enclosed inside it, he wouldn't be feeling so vulnerable and he could simply ignore this whisper from the light.

At least he still had his grandfather's helmet.

"Grandfather . . ." he continued, ". . . Han Solo's presence is weakening me. I feel the pull again . . . Grandfather, help me to resist . . . and when the time comes, give me the strength to kill Han Solo again, this time for real."

The helmet was still, silent, an empty shell, no longer offering the strength or comfort it usually did.

"Grandfather, please . . ." Kylo's voice was shaking now, "let me feel the power of the dark side, don't let Han Solo weaken me . . ."

Still there was nothing.

Kylo growled, leaping to his feet and storming out of his quarters and down the corridor, ignoring all stormtroopers and officers in his path. If his grandfather wasn't going to give him strength, he would have to gather it himself.

He opened the door to Han's room, finding the prisoner asleep, his head leaning to the side, his mouth slightly open. For the briefest of moments Kylo remembered coming to his parents' bed after his many nightmares, but he quickly pushed that memory away.

"WAKE UP!" he yelled as he stormed up to the bed.

Han's eyes opened only slightly, but once he saw his son a bit of a grin formed. "Hey Ben," he said in his weak voice.

"DON'T . . . CALL . . . ME . . . THAT!" Within a second Kylo had his lightsaber drawn and activated, the red blade inches away from the device in Han's chest. "Listen to me, Han Solo, I may have orders not to kill you – yet – but that doesn't mean I can't cripple you even further."

He slowly lowered the blade until it was hovering over Han's shackled wrist. "Snoke never said we needed your _hands,_ Han Solo. Do you like your hands? Well all I need to do is press down and you'll be missing one."

"Ben . . ."

Kylo snarled as he yanked the blanket up, grabbed one of Han's vein-ridden, shriveling feet, and held the lightsaber over the bound ankle. "Or your _feet,_ " he spat. "Your _disgusting_ feet. Snoke doesn't need those either. So long as that machine keeps breathing and pumping blood for you, I can cut off as many body parts as I want."

Han's eyes had widened - Kylo sensed that he was struggling to hide his fear. Yes . . . Han's fear . . . that was what Kylo needed . . . he could already feel the dark side flowing. Slowly, so as to draw out that fear, he moved the lightsaber away from Han's ankle and turned it upright.

"Or . . ." he said, ". . . I could cripple your _face."_ He lowered the upright lightsaber until one of the side extensions was inches away from Han's cheek. "I can carve your skin up until you look like the great Emperor Palpatine – would you like that?"

Yes . . . Han was trembling. Oh, that sweet fear, that knowledge that he could make Han Solo cower . . . yes, there was the strength he needed from the dark side. He kept the lightsaber activated for several minutes, watching the sweat drizzle down Han's forehead, savoring every tremble, grinning at the paleness of his skin.

Han kept trembling even after Kylo deactivated the lightsaber. "Yes," he said, "you're completely helpless. _Helpless._ It would do you good to remember that."

He turned to leave, but before he was safely back in the corridor, he heard his father's weak voice again.

"Ben . . . I know this ain't you."

Kylo quickly shut the door, sealing his father in along with the pull to the light side, but as he made his way back down the corridor, he couldn't stop his hands from shaking.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks again to the readers and reviewers! And yes, I had to put Lando in this story somewhere. I have no idea what he's up to in the TFA timeframe, but he deserves a role here.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 4

The city planet of Coruscant was larger and busier than Rey could have imagined. After she and Chewie touched the Falcon down on the landing platform, she stared out the viewport for several moments, watching the speeders zip to and fro in their hypnotic manner around the buildings so tall they looked like they could peek into space.

"So much . . ." she murmured.

"So much what?" Leia asked from the back seat.

"Well . . . everything." Despite all that had happened, Rey found herself smiling. "I've never seen any place so busy."

"Yes, it's busy," said Leia. "Han and I used to live here back . . . back when things were happier." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, it looks like our escort's here, so let's get going."

A few minutes later, the group of Rey, Chewie, Leia, Luke, and the droids descended the Falcon's ramp. Around them, other Resistance ships were landing and disembarking, including Poe's X-Wing and the medical transport that housed Finn.

"Excuse me, General," said 3PO, "but who did you say our escort is?"

"You'll see," said Leia.

As the small band of Resistance members made it across the landing platform, with the medical droids guiding Finn's hovering stretcher bringing up the rear, a group of the chancellor's guards made their way to greet them. Leading the guards was a dark-skinned older man with graying hair, a mustache, and a wide grin that reminded Rey of Han's grin.

"General Organa!" the man exclaimed. "Good to see you!"

"General Calrissian," Leia greeted back, allowing the man to kiss her hand.

However, once he was done with the formalities, the man's grin faded and he looked at Leia with sincerity in his eyes. "Leia . . ." he said, ". . . I . . . heard what happened to Han."

Leia's mouth twisted. "I'm . . . I'm so sorry."

" _You're_ sorry?" the man exclaimed. "I'm just his friend, but you're his _wife._ " He put his hands on her shoulders. " _I'm_ the one who should be sorry." He wrapped his arms around her. "It's . . . it's not gonna be the same without him. I'm not ashamed to say that I broke down and cried when I heard."

After pulling out of the embrace, he noticed the company she was keeping. "Luke? Is that really you? I thought you'd vanished off the face of the galaxy."

Luke looked slightly embarrassed as he approached the man and they shared a quick hug. "Yeah Lando, it's me."

"Lando?" Rey exclaimed, her eyes widening at the man. "You're Lando Calrissian? The general who helped destroy the second Death Star?"

Lando grinned at her. "Well well, looks like I've got a young fan. And who might you be?"

"I'm Rey."

"Rey?" For some reason he glanced up at Luke before offering her his hand. "Well, nice to meet you, Rey. I take it this is your first visit to Coruscant?"

Rey shook the general's hand. "Yes, it is. In fact, up until a month ago I'd never been _anywhere."_

"Then remind me to show you the sights sometime – but right now, the chancellor's waiting for us." He nodded up at the group. "Come with me."

As the group followed Lando and the other guards, Rey kept glancing back at Finn's stretcher, praying that the hospital he was being transferred to would be able to cure him.

. . .

"Leia!"

The instant Leia, Luke, and Rey entered Chancellor Pooja Naberrie's office, the chancellor ran up to her cousin and threw her arms around her, squeezing her in a long, tight hug. Chancellor Naberrie looked close to Han's age, with gray hair tied up in a bun and held in place by a golden hairdress. Rey found herself unexpectedly swallowing. The idea that someone could be Han's age and _alive_ somehow felt strange to her.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry about Han," the chancellor was saying. "I loved him like he was my cousin too. Leia, if there's anything I can do for you, let me know. I don't just mean helping the Resistance – I mean helping _you."_

"Thank you, Pooja," said Leia.

After pulling out of the embrace, a grin crept into Pooja's cheeks. "Luke? You're back? You're finally back?"

This time it was Luke who initiated the hug with his cousin. "It's been too long," he murmured.

"Darn right it has," said Pooja. "The next time you think of abandoning the galaxy, get your sister to kick your ass first, all right?"

Rey couldn't help but snicker at that, which drew the chancellor's attention to her. Upon laying eyes on the young scavenger, Pooja abruptly released Luke, her eyes widening.

"You . . ." she whispered, ". . . you're Rey, aren't you?"

Rey swallowed. "Um . . . yes."

Pooja approached Rey with the hesitance of approaching a ghost. "You look . . . you look so much like her . . ."

"Like who?"

Only now did Pooja seem to realize she was acting strangely. "I'm . . . I'm sorry . . . you just look so much like my late aunt Padme – Leia and Luke's mother. She died suddenly when I was a girl."

Rey swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. Suddenly she found herself imagining the look of disbelief that would be on Han's face if he were here, which brought a twist to her stomach.

"Oh, look at me," said Pooja. "I gave you a fright, didn't I?" She took a deep breath. "Let's start over here." She offered her hand. "Hello, I'm Chancellor Pooja Naberrie. Leia's told me about you."

Rey shook the chancellor's hand with only a bit of hesitance. "Nice to meet you."

"All right," said Pooja. "Now, everyone have a seat. We've got a lot to discuss."

. . .

The _sound . . ._

In, out, in, out, in, out . . .

On and on, never ending, never changing . . .

Han had been trying to sleep for an unknown amount of time, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Vader's mask – occasionally merging with Kylo Ren's mask.

And the _sound_ droned on . . .

In, out, in, out, bringing memories of switchboard torture and carbon freezing . . .

Ben was right – that _wasn't_ the worst thing that ever happened to him.

Ben . . .

Why did things turn out this way?

Why Ben?

Why couldn't they save him?

Why?

Why?

Why?

He was finally starting to drift off when the door slid open and Ben came storming into the room, his brow furrowing, his breath sounding like an angry animal, glaring at Han as if he were diseased.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked in a low voice.

"Not really," Han answered in his still-unfamiliar rasp. "I haven't moved in ages, after all, but thanks for askin'." Once again he gave his son the tiniest of grins. "Would you like to have a chat, Ben? Maybe you could read my mind again and we could have some father-son bonding time."

Ben growled, pacing back and forth next to his father's bed. "Do you think everything's a joke, Han Solo?"

"Only funny stuff." Han swallowed, sending soreness down his throat. "But if you wanna be serious, I could use some water."

Ben growled again, but to Han's surprise he actually went over to the sink and filled a paper cup with water. He slowly made his way back to his father – was that a bit of hesitance in his eyes? – lowered the cup to his lips . . .

. . . and dumped the water on Han's face.

"There, water!" snarled Ben. "Happy now?"

Han breathlessly sputtered, finding that without air coming out of his mouth, he couldn't spit the bits of water out, so he had to resort to swallowing over and over. He shook his head from side to side as fast as he could without disturbing the tube in his neck, but the droplets insisted on rolling down his skin.

"Just remember, if it were up to me you would be _dead_ , Han Solo!" Ben shouted. "I ran a lightsaber through you once and I'll do it _again_ once your usefulness has been expended." He placed a hand on the machine, above where Han presumed his artificial heart was. " _Or_ maybe I'll just turn that machine off and let you savor a _slow, agonizing_ death."

"Ben . . . please, just listen . . ."

"And if you keep calling me that I might just disobey my orders and kill you early!" In a second his lightsaber was drawn. "Oh yes . . . you fear this, don't you? Every time you see it you're immediately taken back to the day your life was supposed to end." He slowly lowered it again towards his father's trembling wrist, the blade's heat drawing sweat from Han's skin. "It's so easy for me to just press down . . . yes . . . just a few more inches and you'll be without a hand. I could cut off all four limbs and then you'll be even _more_ like my grandfather than you already are."

"Son . . ."

"I'M NOT YOUR SON!" Ben screamed, turning the lightsaber around and flicking one of the side extensions up Han's arm, leaving a piercing, burning cut, making Han raspily cry out in pain.

"Yes, scream!" said Ben. "No one could hear you even if they were around."

"B-B-Ben . . ."

It was the only word Han could utter as he gazed up into his son's hateful eyes, looking for some trace of regret, some sign that his little Ben was still there . . .

"What's that?" Ben asked. "Is that a tear?"

Only now did Han feel the warm tears emitting from his eyes and drizzling down to his ears, and once he became aware of them they came at a greater pace. For several moments neither father nor son said anything. Ben just stared down at his father, watching his tears flow.

Was Han imagining it, or was there a flicker of something _other_ than hatred crossing his son's face?

Whether Han imagined it or not, it vanished within a moment and Ben snarled at his father once more. "Tears can't sway the dark side, Han Solo. Your son is _dead."_


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! Warning: This chapter includes an amputation.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 5

"Leia . . ."

The last embrace with her swirled around in his head. Why hadn't he kissed her goodbye? Why hadn't he told her he loved her one last time?

"Leia . . ."

And why was he repeating her name?

"Leia . . ."

He closed his eyes, seeing her beautiful aged face behind his eyelids, the face he would probably never see again.

Damn, why the hell didn't he kiss her goodbye?

"Leia . . ."

What would she think of his new situation? Would the _sound_ drive her crazy too?

In, out, in, out, in, out . . .

Yes, it probably would. Of course, unlike Han, she wouldn't have to hear it every damn moment of every damn day. She could just _walk away_ from the sound if she wanted to.

What a luxury.

And could he still hug her if he ever saw her again, or would the device in his chest get in the way of that? Maybe hugging him would accidentally turn his artificial heart off.

Why the _hell_ didn't he kiss her goodbye?

"Leia . . . princess . . . sweetheart . . . I know you can't hear me. You probably couldn't hear me even if the dark side weren't blockin' your Force senses or whatever's goin' on here." He felt silly talking to empty air, which hopefully meant he hadn't lost his mind yet. Still, it was giving him a strange sort of comfort. "I ain't dead, but I'm in hell anyway. Maybe it's best that you think I'm dead . . . if you came to rescue me Ben might kill _both_ his parents."

In, out, in, out, in, out . . .

"Leia, this new Vader breath I've got is drivin' me crazy." His cracked lips slowly formed a small grin. "Look at me, I'm talkin' to you when you ain't here. I'm probably gonna snap sooner or later – if our son doesn't kill me first." He opened his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling that didn't even have any cracks he could count. "Ben's kept me strapped down ever since before I woke up here. I'm stiff, I'm in pain, I got itches I can't scratch, my body's probably gonna be useless if this nightmare ever ends. You owe me a lot of pampering if I ever get home."

If he ever got home.

But _how_ could he ever get home?

"I hope you're doin' okay." Now he wondered what Leia would think of his new raspy voice. "Maybe after I go insane I'll be lucky enough to hallucinate about you." He closed his eyes again, the stupid _sound_ still drilling in his ears. "Guess I'll take a nap – there ain't much else to do here. Hope I dream about you, sweetheart. Maybe Ben'll come visit and I can try again with him. I ain't givin' up on him, Leia." He leaned his head as far back into the pillow as his neck tube would allow. "Love you, honey, but you know that."

. . .

"Starkiller Base destroyed several key systems and left our defenses heavily crippled," Pooja was saying as she pointed around a small hologram of the galaxy. "Although you destroyed Starkiller Base, we can't assume the First Order doesn't have something else."

"Of course," said Leia. "I remember how the Empire had a second Death Star waiting for us."

"If we could find Supreme Leader Snoke's location," said Pooja, "we just might have a chance of capturing him before whatever sort of Plan B the First Order has goes into effect, but that will take plenty of arms – arms we might not have anymore."

"Never underestimate the power of a few determined fighters," said Leia. "My troops are ready to do whatever it takes to bring the First Order down."

"I know," said Pooja, "but that doesn't change the fact that we're crippled. We're going to have to act quickly if the Republic is to survive." She turned her attention to Luke. "And we'll need the Jedi's help."

Luke gulped. "I'm willing to help, Chancellor, but . . ."

"But _what?"_ Pooja pressed.

Luke gazed downwards. "I offer my services, but if you're asking me to rebuild the Jedi, my answer is no. No one else is going to suffer the fate of my father and nephew because of me."

"So you're not going to train me _at all?"_ Rey exclaimed.

Luke looked at her with sad, regretful eyes. "My family is cursed. I showed my nephew the power of the Force and he used it for evil. All the death and destruction that followed is _my_ fault. Don't ask me to risk that again."

Rey felt her eyes bulge. "I would _never_ turn to the dark side!"

"That's what they _always_ think at first," said Luke. "You don't understand how _strong_ the dark side is, how _easy_ it is to fall . . . no, _don't_ ask me to do it."

Rey took a deep breath, concentrating on keeping her voice steady even though she felt like her heart had dropped out of her body. "Luke, Kylo Ren murdered Han. I've faced him once and I'll probably face him again. I need to be prepared for that."

Luke only gazed at her for several moments before Pooja cleared her throat.

"Um . . . speaking of which," the chancellor said, taking a deep breath and glancing uneasily at Leia, "Leia, you know Kylo Ren must be taken into custody if we get the opportunity, right?"

Leia nodded in a firm manner. "Yes, he must."

Pooja raised an eyebrow. "You agree just like that? I thought his mother would put up more of an argument."

Leia let out a long sigh, gazing down at Pooja's desk. "A little while back I _would_ have . . . but then he killed his own father." Her hands were trembling slightly even as her eyebrows lowered. "My son is gone."

. . .

" _Han, I'm sorry . . . but I can't do this."_

" _Leia, c'mon, it's still me. I've just got this machine in me."_

" _Yes, and that's the problem. I can't take that sound anymore, Han. Every time I hear that breathing I'm taken back to Vader's cell."_

" _No, you can't mean this."_

" _I'm sorry. I don't want to see you again."_

"Another nightmare, Han Solo?"

Han opened his eyes and once again there was Ben, gazing down at his father with a relishing look on his face.

"What, did the Force tell you that?" Han croaked out.

"I can sense _all_ your fear, Han Solo." Ben was grinning again, that Palpatine-esque grin, not the cheerful grin Han's little boy once had. "You have so _much_ fear."

"Yeah, I do. I'm afraid for my _son._ My _son's_ made some pretty bad choices in his life, but there's still time to turn things around."

Ben's grin automatically vanished, replaced with a scowl. "Poor, naïve Han Solo, still in so much denial."

Han slightly shook his head. "No . . . no, _you're_ the one in denial, son. You keep wantin' to deny the good in you, you wanna deny that _Ben's_ still in there."

" _Good, evil,_ " Ben spat. "Those words mean _nothing –_ just like how _you_ mean nothing."

Han turned his head ever-so-slightly towards his son. "Yeah? Well if I mean _nothing,_ then why do you keep comin' here?"

For a moment Ben actually appeared taken aback, but a growl quickly covered it up.

"Is it cause you want my _fear?"_ Han continued. "Do you need to come torture me to make yourself feel strong?"

Suddenly Ben's fingers were on the tube in Han's neck. "I can pull this out, Han Solo. Pull it out and let you suffocate."

"But you won't," said Han. "Cause you got orders not to. That's all your life is – followin' Snoke's orders. Is that really what you want?"

"Snoke is a _great leader!"_

"Snoke's _usin'_ you!" How Han wished he could raise his voice, but then again, Ben hadn't listened even when Han's voice _wasn't_ just a rasp. All this was probably pointless, but Han had always been stubborn.

"You don't know _anything!"_ Ben snarled.

"Yeah?" said Han. "How do you _know_ I don't know anything?"

Now Ben's hand slowly moved from Han's neck tube to his forehead. "You forget, Han Solo, that you can't keep _any_ secrets from me."

All of a sudden the pain was back, the throbbing, pressing pain that shook his body against the restraints and drew soft, raspy screams from his mouth.

But this time Han was ready for it. He squeezed his eyes shut and through the pain he found a memory. Sitting on the foot of his wife's hospital bed, holding his newborn son for the first time, gazing down into his little eyes, unable to keep tears from flowing and not caring, whispering his first words to his son.

" _I love you, Ben."_

The pain was rushing through his body, down his chest, his stomach, his legs, but Ben was grunting, as if he were struggling to keep his hold on Han's mind.

Maybe it was working.

Han filled his head with more memories. Ben trying on his father's vest and pretending to pilot the Falcon. Ben playing with the wrapping paper from his first birthday party. Leia and Ben lounging on the sofa together after one of Leia's long days at work. Teaching Ben to swim in the pool at their apartment building. Ben taking his first steps. Ben showing off a drawing of his family. Ben riding on Chewie's back.

 _Come on, Ben,_ he thought ferociously, _remember._

 _Remember, son._

 _The family who still loves you._

 _Remember . . ._

Suddenly there was a blood-curdling yell and the pain abruptly ceased. Han opened his eyes, hoping to see some bit of his son, but instead there was Ben snarling like a wild animal. Within a moment he drew his lightsaber so fast that it almost seemed to appear out of nowhere.

And in another moment, he screamed again and sliced the blade through Han's wrist.

Pain shot up Han's arm as he cried out in his tiny rasp and Ben picked up his severed left hand, dangling it from his fingers like a dead animal.

"Did you think it was an idle threat?" Ben snarled. "Did you?" He waved the hand over his father's face, causing something to crawl up Han's throat. "Keep this up and you _will_ end up in a full suit just like my grandfather! Not that it matters, since you'll be dead soon anyway!" After spitting on the hand, he dropped it on the machine in Han's chest and stormed out of the room.

Dizziness swirled through Han's head as he stared at his hand – _his_ hand . . . no longer attached to his body . . . severed and discarded . . . _his hand was gone._

Still the _sound_ droned on, preventing him from panting or gasping or _anything_ , but the dizziness still overcame him, sending him swirling into darkness.

He fainted.

AN: Daaaaamn, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to do that to Han, but once Kylo had threatened it, the story just said he would make good on his threat. Trust me, I didn't enjoy writing it.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Gah, this story took a turn I didn't expect. I really wasn't planning on adding Han to the list of Star Wars characters who lose hands, but I guess that means the story's taking on a life of its own.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 6

Sleep was eluding Kylo Ren, as it did frequently ever since they took Han prisoner. He blinked up into the endless dark, seeing Han's severed hand behind his eyelids with every blink, its lifeless fingers slightly curled upward.

He had done it. Previously he had doubted he would have the strength to make good on that threat, but no, he had done it.

Just like how he had pierced Han's chest with a lightsaber.

Kylo growled slightly. The confrontation on the bridge should have been the end of it. Han Solo should be dead and gone, not lying in a cell down the corridor, mocking Kylo at every opportunity. What made him so important to Snoke, anyway? He was _nothing._

Kylo rolled to his side, tucking his arm under the pillow. Why couldn't he sleep? His father was now even more crippled than he was before – he should be relieved that a burden was lifted.

No . . . the burden wasn't lifted.

It wouldn't be lifted until Han Solo was dead – _actually_ dead.

He closed his eyes again, concentrating on that hand and on his father's pain when he'd sliced it off. Yes, that pain, that fear . . .

" _I love you, Ben . . ."_

His eyes snapped open. No, he _wasn't_ going to think of those memories Han had poisoned his mind with.

He _wasn't._

He rolled to his other side and pulled the covers over his head, breathing deeply. Yes . . . he could _breathe_ , while Han couldn't. Han would never know the sweet luxury of _breath_ again.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Han hadn't died on Starkiller Base.

At least this way, Kylo was truly showing the power he had over his father, power that couldn't be achieved with just a simple lightsaber through the chest.

And Han's fear . . . that delicious fear . . .

A fear so intense that he had actually _fainted._

Kylo felt a smile creep across his face as his eyes slowly closed again. Yes . . . the fear was worth it.

Eventually he fell asleep, but dreams followed him. Dreams he wouldn't remember when he woke, but that were full of the memories his father had pressed into his mind.

. . .

Consciousness gradually returned to Han, and for a few glorious moments he wondered what had happened. He lay in a sort of haze, floating through his mind, simply existing in the darkness.

Then the _sound_ swirled into his mind and everything came back to him.

His eyes shot open and there was his hand still resting on the machine, the fingers unmoving, a line of caked blood on the wrist, the blue veins snaking through the skin.

Instantly his eyes shut again, his body trembling. Did he dare look at his arm? Would he faint again if he did?

Somehow he was inching his head to the side, feeling the neck tube pull slightly as he did so. He had to look . . . it wasn't like he could hide from his own arm for long . . . but his eyes wouldn't open. Come on . . . open. Was he really afraid of his own arm? It was still the same arm he'd always had . . . just with its hand missing. It certainly wasn't much in the context of everything _else_ that had happened lately, right?

If only he could take a deep breath.

But no, that _sound_ was incapable of helping him out.

Slowly, as if he were ripping his skin apart, his eyes opened.

There was his arm, extending from his shoulder like it always did, going down his side . . . and ending with a stump caked in dried blood.

A clump of something wanted to rush up Han's throat, but he swallowed it back down even though doing so burned his throat - throwing up when strapped down would _not_ be a good idea.

Maybe he could at least bend his elbow . . . actually _move_ something . . . no, the restraint on his left arm had already been moved further up – it was now just below his elbow. He was still as trapped as he was before – only now he was missing a hand.

All right . . . he could handle this . . . he could handle this. He was right-handed anyway. Besides, Luke got along pretty well with an artificial hand. Yeah, an artificial hand to go with his artificial heart. What was losing his hand compared to losing his _heart?_

Then again, it wasn't like he ever _saw_ his heart. He saw his _hands_ every day.

His naked thigh felt strangely exposed even though it was under the blanket. Right . . . he was so used to having his _hand_ touching his thigh right outside the blanket. Would he be feeling what people called "phantom pain" soon? What would _that_ be like?

Damn, in all those years why didn't he ever ask Luke how _he_ dealt with losing his hand?

He slowly turned his head back up, once again facing his dead hand. Would Ben just leave it there until it decayed? Would Han have to watch his own hand shrivel away . . . and _smell_ it?

No wait . . . he couldn't smell anymore, could he?

Suddenly he gulped. Why, in all the time that the _sound_ had haunted him, didn't he think about not being able to smell?

Maybe because smell wasn't something he usually noticed unless there was an actual odor in the air.

Was that why everything the stormtroopers fed him tasted bland? Because his nose no longer worked? Maybe. Taste got a lot of help from smell, and smell required _breath,_ after all.

And, Han thought wryly, maybe that was why using a bedpan wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

He twitched his useless nose a bit, suddenly missing the smell of flowers, of caf, of Leia's perfume, of the Falcon. In a sense he'd lost his heart, his lungs, his hand, _and_ his nose. How many more body parts would he lose before Ben finally put him out of his misery?

Maybe he really _would_ end up exactly like Vader, suit and all.

Then he would be dead.

Just like the Jedi Ben murdered all those years ago.

"Ben . . . why?" he whispered, a tear drizzling out of his eye. "Where did we go wrong?"

. . .

Leia woke up suddenly, panting, sweating, still seeing her son's lightsaber impaling her husband despite being awake. The dream came to her every night and stayed with her throughout every day, but that had done nothing to lessen its impact. Every night the image of her husband's death was fresh, raw, as vivid as the first time she sensed it.

She sat up in bed, bringing her knees up to her chest and rubbing the sweat off her forehead. The sedatives she had been taking refused to help with the nightmares, but maybe she should have expected that. Her son had murdered her husband – no pill would be strong enough to help with that.

"Han . . ." she whispered, resting her hands on her knees, her mind revisiting the nightmare she'd had so many times.

Except . . . wait . . . something was _different_ this time.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the dream. Ben – no, _Kylo Ren_ , he no longer deserved to be _Ben_ in her mind – had run the lightsaber through Han as always. Han had used his last bit of strength to touch their son's cheek as always. He had fallen into the endless void as always . . . but wait . . . something else had fallen with him. She squeezed her eyes tighter, chasing that detail before it faded, come on, what else was falling?

It was a hand.

What? Leia's eyes opened in puzzlement. Why would _that_ sneak into her dream? She was pretty sure a falling hand had never shown up before – why would it? It wasn't like she had been dreaming about Luke's long-ago confrontation with Vader.

Then suddenly she realized the hand in the dream had been _Han's._

A slight tremble went through her body. Why was this? Why did a severed hand show up _now_ , a month after Han's death? What did that have to do with anything?

And why was her own hand suddenly feeling numb?


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks as always to all the readers and reviewers! Anyway, I have no idea how tall Snoke is in actuality (given that we only saw him in hologram form ala Palpatine in ESB), but I suspect the hologram was making him look bigger than he actually is (like how Palpatine's hologram in ESB made his head look gigantic). Still, I decided to be ambiguous about it in this fic.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 7

"I know what you did, Kylo Ren."

Kylo knelt before his master's throne, staring at the metal floor. "Yes," he replied, concentrating on keeping his voice steady and emotionless, "I cut off Han Solo's hand."

"And _why_ did you do that?" Snoke's low, chilling voice asked.

"Is it your concern?" Kylo asked, keeping his head down. "Will him having only one hand affect your plan?"

"No," said Snoke, "but it seems that you are unable to handle his presence."

Kylo shot his head up, glaring up at his master. "I told you he means NOTHING to me!"

"Yet your actions prove otherwise. You are unstable around him."

Kylo leapt to his feet, staring up the many steps to his master's darkened throne, his breath increasing its intensity. "What do you _need_ Han Solo for?" he exclaimed without thinking. "If you needed a hostage, we could have taken any other Resistance member who _didn't_ need their vital organs replaced."

"It was you who _created_ the need to replace Han Solo's vital organs," Snoke said simply.

"Because he needed to die!" Kylo shouted. "Now tell me, _why did you need him?"_

"Patience." Snoke merely gripped the arms of his throne. "I shall put my plan into action soon."

Kylo swallowed, staring unblinkingly up at him. "My lord, I will be the one to kill Han Solo when you are through with him, right?"

Snoke was silent.

"RIGHT?" Kylo yelled.

Snoke responded only with a sinister grin creeping across his face.

. . .

Leia was quiet during breakfast in Pooja's dining hall. The dream kept insisting on swirling around in her mind no matter how much she tried to concentrate on the food and conversation. Why would she dream about her husband's severed hand? As far as she knew, both Han's hands remained intact on the day he died.

Until Starkiller Base exploded, shattering his body into millions of pieces . . .

She absentmindedly stirred her Nubian oatmeal, noting that her left hand was still inexplicably numb. Maybe she slept on it the wrong way . . . but if that were the case, shouldn't there be some change in feeling by now?

Her hand . . . Han's hand . . .

Suddenly a long-ago memory came to her. When she and the others were fleeing Bespin just after Han was frozen, the day Vader cut Luke's hand off.

Her hand felt numb _then_ , too.

She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but after she discovered she was both Luke's sister and Force-sensitive she looked back on it as the Force telling her what had happened to her brother.

The spoon fell against the edge of her bowl. No . . . no . . . Han was dead . . . she wasn't going to let herself be swayed by a delusion. It was a dream, nothing more.

"Leia?"

Her cousin's voice jolted her head up to see everyone at the table staring at her.

"Leia?" Pooja repeated. "Are you all right?"

Leia gulped, her breath coming in and out in short bits. "It's . . . it's nothing," she stammered. "I'm just . . . not hungry."

She rose from her seat and hurried out of the room before anyone could say anything.

. . .

Leia had never been good at meditation. There was always _something_ pressing on her mind, be it the welfare of the galaxy or her family or her duties, which made clearing it very difficult. Yet here she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, facing the view of the bustling city, trying to meditate.

She breathed in long, slow breaths, listening to the air coming in and out, in and out as her eyes slowly closed. This was probably a waste of time – in fact it would probably just give her even more grief. It was very likely that she was acting on false hope – no, she shouldn't think the word _hope._ There _wasn't_ hope, she knew that . . . but then why was she even here?

"Han . . ." Her husband's name came out in the tiniest of whispers as she brought her mind back to the vision that had haunted her for a month. The saber going through Han's chest, the last touch, the fall . . .

The hand . . .

"Han . . ." she whispered again. She couldn't bring herself to utter the question out loud, didn't even want to consciously think it, but as she released herself into the Force, the forbidden question formed in her mind.

 _Han . . . are you alive?_

. . .

Kylo stormed once more into the dreaded cell, finding Han napping again, which brought a sneer to Kylo's lips. What right did _he_ have to sleep when Kylo lay awake for hours every night? If there was any justice he should be tormented by nightmares, but as a Force reach into his mind revealed, at the moment he was dreaming nothing.

At least the severed hand still rested on the machine in his chest, the skin already losing its color and beginning to shrivel. Han could look at the hand until it rotted away. That thought caused a small smile to push its way into Kylo's cheeks.

"Is sleep your only refuge, Han Solo?" he whispered, leaning over his father. "Where you can forget all that has happened? Where you can _pretend_ everything is all right?"

Han stirred, causing Kylo to step back, his heart suddenly racing despite his face remaining stoic. He ground his teeth behind his lips as Han blinked his way back into wakefulness, gulping when he noticed his son.

"Hi Ben," he said in his rasp after a moment. "Here to cut off something else?"

"I might be," Kylo said in a hiss.

"Is that gonna make you happy?" Han asked, sincerity in his voice.

Kylo growled.

" _Are_ you happy, son?" Han pressed. "All this power you got – does it make you _happy?"_

"Just STOP THIS!" Kylo yelled. "Your pathetic attempts to get your son back are _useless._ "

Han blinked up at his son. "Can you blame a dad for tryin'?" His head turned slightly, facing the hand on his chest machine. "So, has my hand started to stink yet? I dunno if you know this, but since I can't breathe anymore that means I can't smell either." His head turned back towards his son, his mouth developing the slightest of grins. "Someone who can't see is blind, someone who can't hear is deaf, but what do you call someone who can't smell?"

Kylo glared down at him – he wasn't going to dignify that question with an answer. "Feel lucky you can't smell," he snarled. "You don't know how much _you_ stink!"

Han's mouth twisted. "Well what'd you expect? I haven't _bathed_ in ages. Your stormtroopers don't even brush my teeth."

Kylo felt his breath increase its tempo. "Need I remind you that the _only_ reason you're alive is that Snoke thinks you may be useful?"

"You _remind_ me of that every time you come here." Han kept looking at the hand. "So I guess gettin' this hand outta here is too much to ask?"

In a moment Kylo had his lightsaber drawn and hovering over his father's ankle. "Would you like a _foot_ to join it?" he spat.

That finally shut him up. Once again Kylo felt the fear coming off his father, sensed his mind flashing back to the day on the bridge. _Fear me, Han Solo. Yes . . . yes . . . you fear me._ He pulled the blanket off of Han's foot, letting the blade's heat draw sweat out.

What seemed like several minutes passed as he held the blade over the ankle, savoring his father's fear, watching the sweat drizzle down his foot. He could just press down and Han would be missing a foot as well as a hand . . . it would be so easy . . .

"Ben?" Han suddenly said.

Kylo decided he wasn't going to answer to . . . to _that name._

But the lack of an answer didn't stop Han from continuing. "Remember when you were a kid . . . how you always got excited when the Falcon jumped into hyperspace?"

Kylo didn't move.

"And how you liked to hide in the smuggling compartments on the Falcon?" Han continued. "I was always findin' your toys in 'em."

Kylo still didn't move.

"You used to make up so many songs when you were little." Now there was a tiny smile on Han's face. "I loved listening to them. You'd sit in my lap or Leia's and sing all evening . . . do you remember?"

Kylo's breath was coming out in heaves, but he still didn't move.

"And remember when we'd all go vacationing on Naboo together? How much you loved the beach?"

Kylo growled, baring his teeth at his father, still holding the lightsaber inches above his ankle.

"You lost a tooth at the beach once . . ." By now Han almost seemed like he was reminiscing to himself. "Remember? You were eating ice cream and the tooth came out right in your ice cream. Leia and me were all proud . . ."

Kylo screamed, that blood-curdling scream again.

And brought the lightsaber down.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thanks to the readers and reviewers! God, I've been EVIL to poor Han, I'm sorry. It wasn't my idea to give him an unstable psychopath son. Yeah yeah, I know, I'm the one writing the story, but it's weird . . . it's like Kylo Ren takes control when I write about him and Han or . . . something. Maybe I'm just crazy, but HOPEFULLY Han won't lose any more body parts.

And yeah, for those of you who read my other fics, I ended up utilizing my much-used OC Rianna for Luke's dead wife. After all, we don't know for sure that Rey's actually Luke's daughter (though like I said earlier, the movie dropped many not-so-subtle hints), and if she is, right now we have no way of knowing who her mother is and using Mara Jade didn't feel right since I've never used her before and TFA wiped the slate clean anyway. Okay, done blabbing.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 8

"HAN!"

Leia's eyes shot open, bringing the unchanging view of Coruscant into her vision, which was quickly blurring in front of her eyes. A great jolt of pain had suddenly shot through her body and was now settling in her left foot. She saw Han in her mind, faint and blurry, but one single thing clearly spoke to her.

He was suffering.

She blinked at the window, breathing in heaves through her slightly-open mouth, her stomach twisting so hard that she wondered if she would vomit. Did she dare think . . . did she allow herself to hope? Her breath quickened. If Han _was_ alive . . . if he was suffering right now . . . then what the hell was she doing here?

She needed to find Han!

She leapt to her feet and rushed out of the room.

. . .

Rey was slouching on Pooja's sofa, watching old Jedi Council recordings on one of Luke's datapads. She had just found a set of recordings from when young Anakin Skywalker was first brought to the Jedi Temple and something seemed to be compelling her to watch them over and over again.

" _No, he will not be trained. He is too old . . ."_

" _Clouded this boy's future is . . ."_

Of course Rey knew what eventually became of Anakin. How that innocent-looking young boy would one day become one of the most feared beings in the galaxy.

She wondered if Ben Solo looked so innocent at that age.

"I see you found my father."

Rey looked up and there was Luke, his hands awkwardly clasped together, his eyes shifting slightly. "Rey . . ." he said hesitantly, ". . . do you mind if I sit?"

"No, of course not," said Rey, scooting over to make room for the Jedi.

Luke gulped as he sat next to Rey, his hands still awkwardly clasping each other. He gazed over at the recording Rey had paused, lingering on his father's frozen face.

"If I'd had a son," he said in a low voice, "I would have named him Anakin."

Rey almost dropped the datapad. "What?"

"You heard me," said Luke, unable to take his eyes off the boy on the screen.

"Yes I heard you," said Rey. "I just don't understand _why."_

Luke sighed. "I saw the good in him before he saw it in himself . . . and in the end, he triumphed over the dark side." He blinked down at the screen. "If only I could have helped my nephew like that . . ."

"I don't want to hear about your nephew," Rey quickly said, turning off the datapad. "Your father may have triumphed over the dark side, but your _nephew_ is irredeemable."

Luke didn't agree, but he didn't argue either. Instead he turned his attention to Rey, gulping once more as he gazed at her face. "Rey . . . can I ask you something?"

"What?"

The Jedi cleared his throat, almost looking like he was studying the young woman. "Rey . . . do you remember your parents at all?"

Rey's heart suddenly thumped. Why would he ask something like that? "I . . . I can't recall their faces at all." She closed her eyes, reaching deep into her mind and running into the barriers that only let a few things drift through. "But . . . I _feel_ things. Like . . . I feel like I used to sit on my mother's lap and run my fingers through her hair." Her eyes slightly opened. "I want to say her hair was long and thick . . . not that I can actually remember."

"What else do you feel?" Luke asked in a hushed voice.

Rey gulped, closing her eyes again. "An ocean . . . a beach . . . I feel like I was happy there, that we were all together." Her breath shortened. "But then something terrible happened . . . I think my mind might have blocked a lot of it out . . . but I spent _so many years_ alone, always waiting for them to return, and they never . . ."

Her eyes opened before she could allow tears to escape and she saw that Luke was gazing downwards, breathing audibly, his hands clasped once again.

"Something . . ." he said so softly that Rey could barely hear him, ". . . something terrible _did_ happen." He slowly looked back up at her, his blue eyes glistening. "Your mother's hair _was_ thick and long . . . and you _did_ sit in her lap and play with it."

It was as if Rey's entire body had been doused in icy water. "What?"

Luke blinked at her. "Her hair was deep black. She had beautiful green eyes and light brown skin. She used to sing you old Nubian lullabies . . . maybe you would remember those if you heard them." He gulped, still staring at Rey. "She loved you very, very much . . . but she was killed with all the other Jedi, run through with that same blade that killed Han." Now a tear was inching its way down his face. "In all the years I was alone, not a day went by when I didn't miss her . . . or _you."_

Rey flew to her feet, panting, staring unblinkingly at Luke. "You . . . you're . . ." She stared into his eyes, frantically searching for some memory, some subconscious hint that she had seen those eyes before she found him a month ago. "You're . . ."

Luke glanced at the floor, a shameful expression crossing his face. "Yes, Rey . . . I'm your father."

Something was building up inside Rey as tears filled her eyes. All the years alone swirled into her head. The endless nights of staring into the dark, wondering if tomorrow would be the day when her family would finally come for her. The wall covered with those scratches, every scratch marking another day alone, another day when her family hadn't come. Endlessly waiting, endlessly searching . . .

"You _left_ me!"

Luke sniffled, gazing downward once again. "I thought . . . I thought I was protecting you. After your cousin . . ."

"My _cousin?"_ Rey shouted, furiously shaking her head. "No . . . no . . . that, that . . . _thing_ isn't my cousin!"

Luke slowly looked back up at her, his cheeks streaked with tears. "I felt that way when I found out about _my_ father . . ."

Rey swallowed, feeling a large lump in her throat. "Father . . ." It was as if she were saying the word for the first time. Was she trying the word out on Luke or trying to acknowledge that she even _had_ a father?

" _And Han Solo? You feel like he's the father you never had."_

Why were Kylo Ren's words coming to her _now?_ And why did they feel truer than Luke's even after Han had been dead for a month?

Kylo Ren, the monster who had murdered Han . . . her _cousin . . ._

"Rey . . . Luke finally said, ". . . daughter . . . I don't expect you to forgive me. I know you were waiting so long for a family that never came." Fresh tears were flowing. "I love you, Rey, I always have . . . but you don't have to love me."

The Jedi looked so vulnerable – even more vulnerable than he had looked when she first saw him or at Han's funeral. Wasn't this what she'd always wanted? Hadn't she been waiting forever to find her family?

Luke Skywalker . . . her _father . . ._

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out to him, her eyes welling up . . .

"Luke!"

Both father and daughter were jolted out of the moment by Leia's voice. Rey turned around and there was Leia – her _aunt –_ standing in the doorway, looking out of breath, her eyes wide.

"Leia?" Luke asked. "What is it?"

Leia took a deep breath. "It's . . . it's Han."

"What?" Rey exclaimed, rushing up to her aunt. "What about him?" Her uncle . . . Han was her uncle . . . _was_ her uncle . . .

Leia took another deep breath, giving her brother and niece a cautious look. "Don't . . . don't get your hopes up too much . . . but he might not be dead."

. . .

Ben had stopped visiting.

Han had long ago lost track of time, but it seemed to have been a while since he lost his foot and he hadn't seen Ben since. The only visitors he got now were the stormtroopers who tended to his biological needs and they _still_ never spoke to him, but at least one of them had had the courtesy to get rid of his hand and foot. At least he no longer had to stare at his dead appendages.

He still had to listen to the _sound,_ though.

In, out, in out . . .

"Hey Leia, still hope you're doin' all right." Talking to Leia had become his sole source of comfort during his waking hours, however crazy it might have been. His old self – the one who could breathe on his own and had two hands and two feet and a real heart – would probably think he was losing it. Maybe he was, but right now he would take any little bit of comfort he could get.

"Haven't seen our son lately," he continued. "Maybe I actually got him thinkin'. Course, it seems like every time I try to remind him of our family I get something cut off." His stump of an ankle pressed a little into the mattress. "You wouldn't believe how _weird_ this feels, Leia. Sometimes my body just wants to wiggle its left toes and forgets they aren't there anymore. Sometimes my fingers curl on my one hand and the other one wants to join in before it remembers it's just a stump."

He gazed over at the small lump in the blanket that was his right foot, then at the spot where its brother lump _should_ be. "I dunno how long I've got, sweetheart. You'd hate me for sayin' this, but . . . I almost _want_ them to go ahead and kill me now." He leaned his head back. "I can't move anything to kill myself, but I once heard of a guy who was taken hostage and kept strapped down like me, but he managed to kill himself by bitin' his tongue hard enough to bleed to death." Just mentioning the story brought his own tongue brushing over his teeth. "Sometimes . . . sometimes I just wanna bite like that . . . but then I think of how you'd feel if you knew I'd survived Ben's lightsaber but ended up killin' myself anyway." His eyes closed, the _sound_ still filling his head. "Or maybe I'm still scared of dyin' – old habits are damn hard to break after all."

The door opened – was it mealtime already? Han opened his eyes in time to see four stormtroopers entering. One carried a sponge and a bucket of soapy water, one carried a toothbrush with toothpaste already on it, one carried a razor, and the last one carried Han's shirt and pants, which looked like they had been washed – though the hole in his shirt from the lightsaber was still apparent as it dangled from the stormtrooper's arm.

"What's goin' on?" Han exclaimed, though merely looking at the items was enough to make him want to jump at them if he were able.

The stormtroopers said nothing as usual, but the one carrying the clothes made his way up to the bed, yanked off the blanket, and . . . actually _unlocked_ the binders. One, two, three, four, each one drawing a small cry from Han's mouth as the sores were suddenly exposed to the air, feeling like closed wounds that had been ripped open.

Now the other troopers approached. The one carrying the bucket set it on the floor next to the bed, dipped the sponge in, and started scrubbing Han's legs.

Warm water . . . soap . . . was he really being _washed?_ He had almost forgotten how good warm, soapy water felt – and suddenly he wished he could smell the soap.

He had only a few seconds to absorb the sensation, though, since the stormtrooper with the toothbrush jabbed it into Han's mouth, filling his mouth with the fresh, sharp taste of mint – the sharpest taste he'd experienced since waking up here. He didn't even mind the pokes and jabs from the rough brushing – just the fact that his teeth were being brushed at _all_ was enough to give him an unexpected feeling of ease.

It would have been so easy to just lie back and enjoy being cleaned . . . but _why_ were they doing this?

Han seriously doubted it was because Ben had just decided to be nice for a change.

Something bad was probably about to happen.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 9

Han's body was washed, his teeth were brushed, and his face was shaved. He was _clean._ After going so long without his captors caring about his hygiene, it almost felt like he was dreaming. Maybe he _was_ dreaming – maybe he was about to wake up still strapped down and grimy.

Now one of the stormtroopers grabbed Han by the underarms and yanked him to a sitting position, sending a whirlwind of dizziness into his head. His eyes automatically closed, but his head kept spinning as it dropped to his chest like a doll's, bending his neck tube, his damp hair sending drops down to his lap. He ground his teeth, squeezing his eyes, willing the dizziness to go away, but all that did was make his head spin faster.

He felt the stormtroopers pull on his limp arms and slip them into something soft and narrow, one arm at a time, then pulling it over his head . . . his shirt! They were actually _dressing_ him, but even the prospect of not being naked anymore wasn't enough to open his eyes. He remained limp and passive as the troopers eased him into his clothes.

The dizziness didn't subside enough for him to open his eyes until he was dressed. He opened them just in time to see the troopers tying knots at the ends of his left sleeve and left pants leg, covering his stumps as if they were too shameful to be displayed. His shirt was open at the top, giving the neck tube enough room to maneuver.

"So . . ." he said, "do you guys have my shoes too? I only need _one_ of 'em now – you can keep the other one." He tried to give them a charming grin. "How 'bout my jacket? Leia likes it."

Yet again there was no answer – did he really expect anything else? – but yet again he kept trying. "Don't get me wrong – I appreciate what you guys are doin' here, but I'd like to know _why._ "

Still nothing. Han was beginning to think that Ben had ordered all the stormtroopers to never say anything to him in hopes that it would drive him insane. Somehow that wouldn't surprise him.

Two of the stormtroopers wrapped their arms around his back and hoisted him to a standing position – or rather, to a barely upright position where his single foot and his stump dragged against the floor. Even through the knot, the floor felt _hard_ against his stump, as if it were banging right up his leg. Maybe it was because that area was normally attached to a foot and thus didn't usually come into contact with things like floors.

The troopers dragged him out of the room much like how other stormtroopers had dragged him away after the switchboard torture so many years ago, only this time one of the troopers was holding his wrist stump so he wouldn't slip off. Once they entered the bright corridor, the lights glared into Han's eyes, forcing them shut. His body slumped over as they kept dragging him to who knew where.

He had a bad feeling about this.

. . .

Luke was Rey's father.

It had been two days since Luke gave his news and Rey had been avoiding him as much as possible since then. She needed to sort out her thoughts – at least that was what she told herself. Fortunately, Luke seemed to understand – he didn't pressure her to talk to him at all. Right now she was allowing herself some solitude in Pooja's bathtub, lounging back in the sudsy warm water. A warm bath was a luxury back on Jakku, so she intended to savor this for as long as she wanted.

Finn was still in a coma.

Even in Coruscant's best hospital, his condition was unchanged. Maybe he wouldn't wake up for years . . . or maybe he wouldn't wake up at all . . . because of Rey's _cousin._ Just the thought made her teeth grind together. Like she did every morning, she had been to see Finn this morning and once again she had promised to make Kylo Ren pay for what he did . . . but she couldn't bring herself to tell him about her parentage.

Han might – _might_ – be alive.

Several Resistance fighters – Poe and BB-8 among them – had already been sent out in hope of tracking Snoke's location, but so far there were no results. Luke and Leia spent most of their time in meditation, trying to follow that tremor in the Force Leia had felt, but again they hadn't had any results. It was as if Han's life strand had burst back into the Force only to disappear again.

Rey sank back into the water, her hair flowing behind her, only her face sticking above the surface. Had Han known she was his niece? Was that why he'd offered her a job as soon as he learned her name?

If so, why didn't he tell her?

Luke was her father . . .

She gazed up at the pink tiled ceiling, her eyes tracing the pattern of shapes. What was _she_ supposed to do? Try to connect with her newly-found father? Yes, she probably should . . . but just the thought made her stomach twist even in the soothing water. The father she'd always ached to find . . . but also the father who'd left her . . . and still the father she barely even _knew._

Maybe she should have asked to be sent off with the scouts. At least she would be helping out then.

Maybe she would have even found Han . . .

Of course, that was assuming Han was actually alive.

She had seen the lightsaber go through his body . . . how could he _possibly_ survive that?

Her eyes closed and her breath slowed. Her _father_ may have refused to train her in the Force, but that didn't mean she couldn't try to use it, did it? She had already used it, after all, even if it was when she was in a desperate situation.

Well if Han was alive and suffering, as Leia felt, then this counted as a desperate situation.

She listened to the water rush past her ears, concentrated on every breath, pressed Han's face into her head. She didn't know how to put herself in a meditative trance, but she was Force-sensitive . . . and Luke Skywalker's daughter. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough . . .

After several minutes, she hadn't managed to get in a meditative trance, but she thought she saw something in her mind for the tiniest of seconds.

A large, darkened chamber.

Several stairs leading up to a throne.

And Han.

. . .

The stormtroopers dragged Han into a large room where the only light came from the hallway behind them and the windows near the ceiling, showing the night sky. They threw him into a chair that faced a set of stairs so tall that he could barely make out the throne at the top. Ben stood facing him at the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows down, but his body giving a slight tremble.

"Hey son," said Han, though Ben gave no answer.

"So," a low, sinister voice bellowed, sending a shiver through Han's body and causing him to instinctively grab his wrist stump, "you're Han Solo."

Han swallowed, barely making out the figure on the throne. "And . . ." he forced himself to say, ". . . you must be the guy who took my son away."

"Your son came to me _willingly,_ " Snoke said in a casual tone. "I gave him what _you_ never could." Though Han couldn't see Snoke's face, he imagined a sinister grin forming as the First Order leader spoke his next words. "A _purpose."_

"You made him your _puppet!"_ Han retorted, desperately wishing he could still shout. "That ain't much of a purpose."

Ben snarled at him, but still said nothing.

"Your mouth is as big as your reputation indicates," Snoke said calmly. "But that's not why you're here."

"So why _am_ I here?" Han exclaimed, still squeezing his stump. "I can't say I'm fond of your hospitality, so it might be nice to know what I'm doin' here!"

There was a lingering silence before Snoke answered. "Several reasons, in fact. One is to make Kylo Ren stronger."

Make Kylo Ren stronger. With those words Han bared his teeth up at the throne, wishing with all his heart that he still had his left foot and could run up those stairs to attack Snoke. "You're gonna pay for what you did to my boy," he hissed.

Ben's hands were clenching, but he still remained silent. It was as if Snoke's presence had taken his ability to speak.

Snoke, meanwhile, ignored the threat. "How does it feel to be so crippled, Han Solo? You are _indeed_ making your son stronger. However, that's not the _main_ reason why you're here."

"Then _why?"_ Han pressed.

Once again Han could imagine Snoke's sinister grin as he spoke.

"Thanks to you, soon we will have Luke Skywalker's daughter."


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Thanks as always to the readers and reviewers!

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 10

Luke Skywalker's daughter.

Of course Han had suspected Rey was his niece the entire time – she looked exactly like Luke's little girl and shared the same name, after all. Still, the confirmation that Snoke knew who she was sent a shiver through his body as he stared at his son's emotionless face.

Did _Ben_ know who Rey was?

Then he remembered that Ben could read his mind.

Maybe Snoke could too.

He was putting Rey in danger just by _thinking_ about her.

Okay . . . so just _don't_ think about her . . .

Think about something else . . .

Like . . . how weird it was to be touching his wrist without a hand attached.

He squeezed his stump harder, his fingers pressing down through his sleeve. It felt hard, boney, _wrong._ What happened to his hand after the stormtrooper finally took it away? Was it simply thrown out, or was Ben keeping it as a trophy? Rey was still in the back of his mind, so he tried to imagine his hand on display in Ben's chambers . . .

"Trying to hide your thoughts is useless," said Snoke.

Han flinched as if his privacy had been invaded, even though Ben had probed through his mind at least twice in the time he'd been a prisoner.

"My cousin is strong with the Force," Ben said, speaking for the first time, not taking his eyes off his father. "I will teach her the ways of the dark side and she will become a valuable ally."

"You _do_ know she thinks you killed me, right?" Han responded, looking into his son's eyes. "What makes you think she'd join you after that?"

Ben smirked. "She is full of rage and uncertainty. She will be easy to sway."

"With both of Darth Vader's grandchildren by my side," Snoke added, "your pitiful Resistance won't stand a chance."

"She won't join you," said Han, though he couldn't keep his raspy voice from faltering a little. There was once a time when he would have said the same thing about his son.

Ben stared at him, his face empty. "Even after what _her_ father did?"

Han swallowed, a feeling of numbness going through his head. "Luke . . . had his reasons for what he did." It sounded feeble – it would probably sound feeble even if he had his old voice – but it was all he could say.

Ben glared at his father. "Even _now_ you defend him, Han Solo?"

Han looked into his son's eyes, searching as always for some bit of the old Ben. "You used to call me Dad . . ."

Why did he choose _now_ to say this, when his son had been calling him by his full name this entire time? He couldn't tell, but now Ben was looking back into his father's eyes, blinking like he had on the bridge, as if something inside him had suddenly awakened.

"Ben, it's not too late," Han whispered. "You can still come home."

Ben just kept staring, blinking, looking like he _wanted_ to say something, but before he could, Snoke's voice echoed around the chamber.

"Take him away. I will want to see him again later."

. . .

Rey stared into the foggy mirror as she dried her hair, still seeing that chamber in her mind. There was Han – hurt, weak, but _alive._ Her heart was racing. Could she trust the vision or whatever it was? Even if the vision was true, what could she _do_ about it?

She exited the refresher still in a bathrobe and with her hair still wrapped up in a towel, making her way down the hall with no destination in mind. After a few minutes she found herself in front of the open door of Pooja's study, where the chancellor could be seen reading on a couch with R2 next to her.

"Rey?" Pooja asked, looking up from her datapad.

Rey gulped, taking a step backward. "I-I'm sorry, Chancellor."

"No, it's all right," said Pooja. "Come on in."

Rey gulped again as she hesitantly entered the room, her bare feet sinking into the fluffy carpet. R2 beeped a friendly hello when she reached the sofa.

"Hello, R2," she said softly, sitting next to Pooja.

"What's on your mind?" Pooja asked.

Rey pulled the robe tightly around her. "Chancellor . . ."

"Oh come on Rey, we're family, you can call me Pooja."

"Pooja," Rey stammered, "I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to all this. A month ago I had no family at all and now . . ."

"I understand," said Pooja, giving a grandmotherly smile. "There must be a _lot_ on your mind, isn't there?"

Rey licked her lips. "In the bath . . . I think I saw my uncle." Somehow calling Han her uncle was much easier than acknowledging her other family members. "I don't know exactly where he is . . . but maybe we could find him if I combine my Force senses with my aunt's and . . . my _father's . . ."_

Pooja gave her an awkward smile. "Rey, sweetheart, you know our priority needs to be finding _Snoke,_ not Han. We don't even have any proof that Han's alive."

"I think he _is_ alive." Rey's voice came out louder than she'd intended. "But he's suffering . . . like Leia said. He could die for _real_ if we don't find him."

Pooja sighed through her nose. "You inherited your grandmother's spirit along with her looks – I'm sure she'd be proud of you." Her eyes slightly lowered. "Rey, I miss your uncle too and I'd love to believe that he's alive, but the fact remains that we can't send our limited troops on a wild bantha chase to find someone who's most likely dead when Snoke and Kylo Ren are still out there."

"But what if he's _with_ them?" Rey pressed.

"Then we'd find Han when we find Snoke," said Pooja. "No matter how hard it is, we have to look at the bigger picture here. Defending the galaxy as a whole is more important than rescuing one individual."

Rey's fingers started fiddling with her bathrobe cord. "So I guess you think your cousins are wasting their time then?" Her face slowly morphed into a glare at her cousin. "Didn't they once _leave_ the Rebellion to rescue Han?"

"Yes, but that time they _knew_ Han was alive."

Rey's glare hardened. "You think he's dead, don't you?"

The chancellor let out a long, tired sigh. "I don't know."

. . .

The stormtroopers dragged Han back to his cell with Ben following close behind, as if he somehow thought his father would be able to escape in his condition. Once they reached the cell, the troopers eased Han back onto the bed in a surprisingly gentle manner.

"Sir," one of the troopers said to Ben, "should we strap him down again?"

Ben looked down at his father with that blank expression, as if he were pondering how pathetic Han looked. "No," he finally said, "he's too weak to move."

With that, Ben turned and left the room, the stormtroopers following close behind.

Once he was alone, Han wanted to let out a long exhale, though of course he couldn't. His entire body was sore from being moved around for the first time in weeks and his eyes were drooping, but he _wasn't_ strapped down. Even though Ben was right and he felt nowhere close to being strong enough to get out of bed, just being able to move a _little_ bit felt like a glorious luxury.

"Hey Leia," he whispered. "You'll never guess what just happened. Well, I got good news and bad news. The good news – I ain't strapped down anymore. I can sleep on my _side_ now." A tiny smile formed as he inched his body to the side. His teeth gritted at the soreness, but he succeeded in rolling to his side, though his torso felt strangely heavy with the machine inside, as if it wanted to pull his body forward. He folded his arms as his eyes closed, his stump digging into his elbow.

"Okay . . . now the bad news," he said. "Leia, Snoke's after our niece – he wants her to be like Ben." He swallowed. "I dunno just how he plans on doin' that, but it can't be good. Does she know Luke's her dad?"

His center of consciousness was sinking down. His mouth opened as if yawning even though he couldn't breathe a yawn. "Leia . . . I'm so tired . . . I keep tryin' to help Ben . . . I dunno what I'm doin' wrong . . . I miss you both so much . . . I'm so _damn_ tired . . ."

As sleep gradually overtook him, he kept randomly whispering to his wife, some irrational part of him wanting to reach her for real, to hear her beautiful voice respond and give him the strength he so desperately needed.

. . .

Leia hadn't slept since she dreamt of Han's severed hand. The woman who once had trouble meditating for five minutes now sat in meditation for hours, desperately searching for her husband's life strand in the endless cloud of the Force. That was where she was now, sitting cross-legged on her bed, unmoving, focusing on her memories of Han.

But even her desperation to find her husband couldn't overtake her biological needs. The two days without sleep were finally creeping up on her, pulling her down. At first she tried to fight it, her mind calling out _No! You can't sleep! Not until you find Han!_ However, the fatigue grew stronger, stronger, pulling her body over to the side, making her collapse across the bed.

She was asleep.

. . .

The Jedi often said the Force worked in mysterious ways. A Jedi could spend his or her entire life studying the Force without understanding everything about it. Indeed, a Jedi might be quite confused about what was happening right now.

A husband and wife, connected through the Force.

Each reaching out to the other as they fell asleep.

Once in their subconscious, their souls following the Force, feeling their connection.

A connection so strong that in this moment at least, it could penetrate a dark side shield.

"Leia . . ."

"Han . . ."


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! Just so there's no confusion, let me explain something before we start. There's a persistent fan theory in some parts of the fandom that Han might be a bit Force-sensitive – not enough to be a Jedi, but enough to have quick reflexes, which is why he's such a great pilot and marksman. I myself have never subscribed to this theory (and in fact have argued that part of Han's charm comes from him NOT being Force-sensitive), but there's a moment in TFA where he shoots a stormtrooper without looking. Some fans see this as confirmation that yes, he is a bit Force-sensitive.

Anyway, long explanation short, I decided to play with that theory in this story and use the idea that when Han in enough pain (physical and emotional), he can subconsciously reach out in the Force and when Leia's reaching out to him at the same time, their souls can touch.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 11

"Han?"

He was lying in a small bed in front of her, a blanket wrapped up to his neck, but something wasn't right. _No,_ something inside her was saying, _this isn't real, Han's dead, don't let yourself get sucked in._ Still, there he was, blinking up at her as if he thought she was a fantasy.

"Leia . . ." he said in a weak, raspy voice, ". . . am I dreamin'?"

Leia felt her heart thump at the sound of his voice. "I . . . I think _I_ am."

Han kept blinking at her, his eyes shifting a bit. "Maybe . . . maybe we _both_ are."

Leia gulped, her eyes dampening. After another moment of hesitance, she slowly reached out for him, but he suddenly flinched away, his chin ducking under the blanket.

"No!" he exclaimed, his voice still raspy. "Don't look . . ."

"Don't look at what?"

He slowly looked back up at her, revealing that his eyes were wet too. "Don't look at _me._ Remember me like I was, not like . . ."

" _Remember_ you?" Leia exclaimed, unable to keep herself from shouting. "So you _are_ dead after all?" A tear drizzled down her cheek. "You let me think that . . . for a moment I actually thought . . . how could you let me think . . ." What was she angry at? Angry at Han for being dead? Angry at Kylo Ren for killing him? Angry at herself for believing in the impossible?

Han just stared up at her, every blink moistening his eyes further. "Leia . . . I'm _not_ dead . . ." With those words, the tears overflowed and started dripping down towards his ears.

Leia could only stare at him, her ears numbing. The words she'd longed to hear, the words she'd been afraid to hope for . . . now all she wanted to do was dive down on him and kiss his handsome face, but something was holding her back. This was a dream, she reminded herself . . . yet it didn't feel like an ordinary dream. It _felt_ like Han's real soul was behind those words and not just her own projection of him.

"If you're alive . . ." She couldn't keep herself from sniffling. ". . . then _where_ are you?"

"I got no idea," he said, "but even if I did, you _shouldn't_ come for me."

"What?"

"Leia, listen," Han's voice quickened. "Ben's here . . ."

" _Ben,_ " Leia interrupted, uttering the name as if it belonged to a monster. "He doesn't deserve to be called that."

Han blinked at her again. "Leia . . . I ain't givin' up on him and you shouldn't either – even after what he did to me."

"And what _did_ he do to you?" Once again she reached out to him and once again he flinched away. "Han . . ."

" _Don't look!"_

Leia swallowed. "Han . . . he cut off your hand, didn't he?" It was the first time she had acknowledged it out loud – if acknowledging it in a dream counted – and doing so made her head spin.

Again he sank under the blanket as if afraid of her. "What . . . what makes you think that?"

"I saw it in my dreams."

"You Force-sensitives and your dreams . . ." He peeked back out, staring at her once more. "Well I ain't showin' it to you, in case you were wonderin'."

"Why not?"

"Leia, _please."_ Another tear escaped his eye. "They're gonna kill me sooner or later – I'd like you to remember me with two hands." He blinked at her in rapid motions. "Now listen, they're gonna use me to get Rey."

"Rey?"

"Yeah," said Han. "Snoke wants to make her his dark side slave . . . just like he did to Ben. Listen sweetheart, no matter what you do, _don't let Rey come after me!_ "

There was so much desperation in his raspy voice that Leia automatically nodded. "I won't." Slowly, gently, she leaned over her husband's body, her hand cupping around his pale, boney face. "And you're _not_ going to die here, I promise. Maybe if I look around this dream or this vision or whatever this is, I can find out where you are."

"No!" Han exclaimed. "Don't!"

"You can't stop me," said Leia. "I've never given up on you before and I don't intend to start now."

His eyes closed. "Please . . . don't leave . . . we might never see each other again . . ."

She gently brushed his eyelids, encouraging them to open. "We _will,_ I promise." She leaned over and kissed his cold forehead. "I love you."

Han gazed up at his wife, sincerity in his eyes. "I know."

. . .

Rey tiptoed into her father's dark bedroom. She shouldn't do this, she knew that, but something was compelling her. The vision of Han was still swirling through her head, and if Pooja wasn't going to do anything about it, _someone_ had to.

Luke was snoring gently in his bed. In the rushing lights from the city outside, he looked troubled – his eyes were squeezed as if he were deep in an awful dream and his hair was mussed up against the pillow. Her _father._ No matter how many times she repeated the word to herself, she couldn't get used to associating it with Luke. She wasn't sure how she would have imagined her father back in her days on Jakku . . . but she wouldn't have imagined that he would be _Luke Skywalker._

She gulped as her gaze moved to the nightstand next to the bed. That was where it was, she could _feel_ it, just like when it had "called" to her the first time.

" _That lightsaber, it belongs to me."_

She ran her teeth over her lip at the thought of Kylo Ren's words. Both of them were Darth Vader's grandchildren . . . _both_ of them had some claim to the lightsaber.

But Kylo Ren needed to be destroyed.

She pressed the button on the nightstand, holding her breath as the drawer slid open. There it was, nestled in the drawer as if given a place of honor there, gleaming eerily in the city lights. She took a deep breath as she slowly reached out, remembering the visions she'd seen the first time she'd touched it – the visions, she now realized, of _Luke_ abandoning her. No, no . . . she couldn't worry about that now. It had _called_ to her, as Maz had said, it was rightfully hers. This had to be done – for Finn, for Han.

She took the lightsaber.

. . .

The corridors seemed endless, weaving up and down, left and right. There was a haziness about them, as if Leia were walking through a thick fog that just happened to resemble a series of corridors, and there was no one else in sight.

Why was she doing this? She was _dreaming –_ she might not even remember any of this when she woke. Yet it still felt _different_ from an ordinary dream, much like how Han had felt like his real self instead of a conjured image. She was _thinking_ in this dream – thinking like she did when she was awake instead of the jumbled thinking that usually happened in dreams.

And if this was the only way to find out where Han was, she would have to take advantage of it.

Up, down, left, right, corridor after corridor, a winding, ongoing maze. Maybe this wasn't where Han was after all. Maybe these were just trails in her subconscious that led nowhere, but it was the only trail she had.

"Han?" she whispered. "How can I find you?" Maybe she should try going _back_ to him, but by now she had no idea how to get _there_ either.

She could only go further.

Maybe hours passed, maybe minutes – time was difficult to measure in dreams – but finally there was something different. A large, open doorway, leading out into a foggy jungle wilderness. The calls of various animals echoed into the corridor, enticing Leia to exit the building. After a deep breath, she did so, stepping into the thick, warm outdoors.

Once outside, she immediately turned around to see what kind of building they were holding Han in. At first it was only a tall shadow in the fog, but as she stared longer, it slowly materialized into a large stone building, ancient looking, with domed roofs and narrow windows.

A monastery.

Leia's breath hastened. Beyond the top of the building, two large moons shone, giving the jungle and the monastery an ethereal glow. Two moons, jungle, monastery . . . all right, where was Han? This could be one of any number of different planets.

She fell to a sitting position, hastily crossing her legs and squeezing her eyes shut so tightly that they hurt. _Where is this?_ she pressed into her head. _Han, where are you? I need a sign, where's Han? Come ON, where's Han?_

Again it might have been hours or it might have been minutes, but finally something swirled into her head. It started as a whisper, but as she gradually became aware of it, the word became clearer and clearer, as if she could finally understand a new language.

 _Teth . . . Teth . . . Teth . . ._

"Teth system?" she whispered out loud. "Teth system? Is that where Han is?"

The word just kept its silent loop in her head. _Teth . . . Teth . . . Teth . . ._

"Teth system . . ." she whispered again. "Teth system . . ." Her voice became louder and louder. "Teth . . . system . . . Teth system . . . TETH SYSTEM!"

With that she awoke, her body aching from sleeping in a slumped-over position, but she hardly noticed the pain – her mind was still wrapped up in the dream.

"Teth system . . ." she repeated between pants. "Teth system . . ."


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 12

Rey had just snuck out of Luke's room when Leia came running down the hallway, giving Rey only a few seconds to hide the lightsaber in her robe pocket before her aunt reached her.

"Leia . . . aunt . . . Aunt Leia . . ." she stammered, ". . . what are you doing here?"

Leia was still fully dressed even though it was the middle of the night, but her hair was mussed up as if she had just gotten out of bed, falling out of its buns. Her eyes were bulged and her hands were shaking a little. "Rey . . . I need to talk to Luke." Without waiting for an answer, she darted into her brother's room.

Rey quietly followed her aunt back into the bedroom, though she huddled against the wall next to the doorway once she was inside, squeezing the lightsaber in her pocket as if that would make her invisible.

"Luke, WAKE UP!" Leia shouted, shaking her brother's shoulder.

It took a good few moments for Luke's eyes to open. "Huh . . . Leia?"

Leia's breath was coming out in short pants. "Luke . . . I know where Han is!"

"What?" Luke exclaimed.

"Han . . ." Rey whispered. Suddenly her hands were tingling. She stared over at her aunt, momentarily wondering if she had heard her right.

Luke instantly sat up in bed, his wide eyes reflecting the lights outside. "What? . . . Where? . . . How do you know?"

Leia quickly sat on the edge of the bed, her breath still coming out in pants, her hand still on Luke's shoulder. "I saw him . . . I saw him in a dream."

"In a _dream?"_ Luke reacted.

Leia let out a huff. "Luke, this wasn't an ordinary dream – you of all people should understand that." She took a deep breath that did little to calm her panting. "I _saw_ him, Luke – it was _really_ him – and I saw where he is."

Rey's chest tightened as if she were holding her breath. Han's grinning face entered her head. She heard his deep, rough voice almost as if he were actually speaking to her.

Luke raised an eyebrow at his sister. "Are you _sure?"_

"Absolutely," said Leia. "I saw him as clearly as I see you now." She pinched a few hairs of her brother's beard. "He's on Teth . . . and Kylo Ren's with him."

"Then we'd better tell Pooja," said Luke.

"My thoughts exactly."

If either of them noticed Rey by the doorway, they didn't acknowledge it as Luke leapt out of bed and the siblings rushed out of the room. After a gulp, she followed them towards Pooja's room, staying a good distance behind, still squeezing the lightsaber in her pocket.

She reached Pooja's room just in time to witness her father and aunt waking the chancellor up and telling her about Han in voices so fast that their words ran together. With the mention of Han, R2 snapped out of his nighttime shutdown and started beeping in rushed, excited tones. Again, Rey slipped in and huddled next to the doorway, still unsure whether or not anyone noticed her.

"So let me get this straight," Pooja said in a frazzled voice as soon as her cousins allowed her to get a word in, "you two think Han's alive and on Teth because _Leia had a dream?"_

"I know it sounds crazy," said Leia.

"Yes it _does_ sound crazy!" Pooja exclaimed. "I'd be inclined to think you both had gone crazy if I didn't know about the Force."

"So you'll help us?" asked Luke.

Pooja let out a long sigh, her gaze shifting between her two cousins. "As your cousin I would love to tell you yes, but as chancellor I have to say no."

"What?" Leia and Luke reacted together.

Pooja eased herself to a sitting position. "You have to understand, I need more than just a _dream_ – I need actual leads."

"This _is_ a lead!" Rey shouted, not caring that she had given away her hiding place and causing all heads to look up at her. "It's the best lead you have! Look, you finally have an actual _planet!_ You should at least send someone to _check_ Teth."

Pooja sighed again, digging her fingers into her forehead. "So am I supposed to tell the scouts to search Teth because of a _dream?"_

"You won't have to," said Leia. " _I'll_ go there _myself."_

"And I'll go too," said Luke.

Rey stepped forward. "So will I."

Leia stared at her niece, her eyes wide almost as if afraid, but before she could say anything, the chancellor spoke up.

"All right," she said. "There's no sense in saying you can't go since you'll just go after him anyway. I'm not going to stop you. But if you _do_ find him – or Snoke or Kylo Ren – let me know immediately so I can send reinforcements."

"Thank you," Luke breathed, wrapping his arms around his cousin.

Leia, however, was still staring at Rey. "Rey . . . I'm sorry . . . but you can't come."

"What?"

Leia made her way over to her niece and put her hands on her shoulders. "Rey, listen. Han told me that Snoke wants _you._ He wants you by his side just like my son."

Rey bared her teeth. "I _wouldn't_ join him, you know that!"

Now Luke was next to Leia, staring over at his daughter. "Rey, you don't understand . . ."

" _What_ don't I understand?" Rey interrupted. "I'm not your father or your _nephew!"_

"Rey, you _need_ to listen!" Leia said in her firm, militaristic voice. "Han wanted me to promise that I wouldn't let you go after him."

"Han . . .?" Suddenly Rey's voice was soft, hurt, almost betrayed. Han, who had been impressed by her piloting skills, who had offered to take her on as an assistant, who felt like more of a father to her than Luke had ever been . . . even _he_ didn't trust her not to fall victim to the dark side?

She bolted out of the room.

. . .

Han gradually woke up, the feeling that something important had occurred during his nap itching in the back of his mind. As awareness returned to him in increments, he noticed that a blanket covered his body up to his neck, though he thought he remembered being uncovered when he fell asleep. The _sound_ kept on its endless droning – the blanket ever-so-slightly muffled it, but not enough to keep it from irritating Han's ears.

" _What's_ going on, Han Solo?"

His son's voice jolted his eyes open. Ben was glaring down at him, his eyes flaring.

"Hi son," Han said in his weak voice.

" _What_ were you just doing?" Ben shouted.

Han raised an eyebrow. "I was sleeping. I ain't allowed to do _that_ now?"

Suddenly Ben grabbed his father's shoulders, pressing them against the bed. " _Don't_ play games, Han Solo. There was a disturbance in the Force that originated _here!_ Now tell me what you did!"

Now both of Han's eyebrows were up. "Ben, you've known me your whole life and you know I can't use your Force thing."

Ben growled as he released Han's shoulders. "I _know_ what I felt, Han Solo. You can stop pretending."

" _Pretending?_ Look son, I dunno what Snoke's been tellin' you, but whatever you felt here wasn't me."

"Are you pretending to be stupid or are you _actually_ stupid?" Ben snapped, leaning over his father as if studying every detail of his face.

Han swallowed, the fingers on his single hand curling. "Look, I had a dream about your mother, okay? I don't think that's worth throwin' a fit over."

Ben blinked as if a realization was slowly dawning. "You called to her . . . you called her for help!"

"What? Ben, you're bein' ridiculous."

Now Ben's face hardened. " _Am_ I? Why don't we _see?"_

He put his hand on his father's forehead, bringing back the sharp pain that came from mind probing. This time, however, he was looking for something very specific. It felt like nails were driving into his head, one after the other after the other, until the dream swirled into his mind, as vivid as if he were dreaming it again. Leia finding him, their conversation, warning her about Snoke wanting Rey . . .

"You _did_ call to her," said Ben, abruptly removing his hand.

"It was a _dream,"_ Han insisted, though there was hesitance in his voice. Leia had said she thought _she_ was dreaming . . . then he had said maybe they _both_ were.

Was it possible?

"It was a dream . . ." he said again, more to himself than his son.

Ben's eyes were still examining his father. "You may be extremely weak in the Force, Han Solo, but you still _have_ it."

Han would have panted if he could still breathe; his heart would have been racing if it still existed. No . . . no . . . he _wasn't_ Force-sensitive . . . he _wasn't_ . . . he couldn't have _actually_ called out to Leia . . .

 _Could_ he?

The father and son gazed at each other for several moments in silence, the only sound being Han's mechanical breath, and for once Ben actually didn't seem vengeful – instead he seemed almost as confused as Han was, his eyes still scrutinizing his father as if there would be an answer in his face.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Ben finally said. "If they come for you, they'll be ours." With that, he turned sharply to head out the door.

"Ben," said Han.

Ben stopped only briefly.

"When I was asleep . . . did you cover me?" Han wasn't sure why he was asking this when he'd just heard that his wife could be heading for a trap, but the words had escaped nonetheless, as if he were still desperately searching for some good in his son.

Ben left the room without answering.

. . .

Rey had gotten dressed and rushed out to the Falcon as quickly as was possible. Fortunately, whatever rescue party that was assembling hadn't gotten there yet. She could sense that Leia was planning to use the Falcon to find Han, which meant she had to act quickly.

She ran through the darkened halls until she found them – the smuggling compartments Han had showed her when he gave her and Finn a tour of the ship. With a deep breath, she lifted one of the false floor panels, lowered herself into the compartment, and closed herself in, still clutching her grandfather's lightsaber.

 _Uncle Han, I'm coming._


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 13

Rey was curled up in the smuggling compartment, hugging her legs as footsteps and voices echoed above her. Luke, Leia, Chewie, 3PO, and R2 had entered the Falcon by now, and so far no one had found her, though every footstep made her flinch.

 _No,_ she thought, concentrating on every word. _Don't find me, don't find me, don't find me._ She imagined a bubble around her, a Force bubble that would block everyone's senses and render her invisible. Maybe there _was_ a bubble protecting her from the outside world, maybe the Force would help her stay hidden.

Several minutes seemed to pass, during which she hardly dared to breathe. _Don't find me, don't find me, don't find me._ She kept the bubble idea pressed in her mind. _Don't find me, don't find me, don't find me._

Finally the floor under her started to vibrate.

The Falcon was finally taking off.

She was on her way.

. . .

In, out, in, out . . .

Han was huddled under the blanket, listening to that _sound_ as his mind raced. No one – not Luke, not Leia, not any other Jedi – had ever indicated that he was even remotely Force-sensitive. He sure as hell couldn't read minds or levitate objects or anything like that. The one time he had used Luke's lightsaber to cut open the taun-taun, its weight had nearly pulled his hands down.

And the dream had been simply that – a _dream._

Even though it _felt_ so real . . .

No, no, this was ridiculous.

He was too old to discover new things about himself.

Right?

What if it was true? What if he _did_ call to Leia?

Then she could be coming to rescue him right now and heading right for whatever trap they had planned.

He closed his eyes, trying to let the _sound_ lull him back to sleep. If he went back to sleep and returned to the dream, maybe he could warn Leia not to come.

At least he had already warned her about Rey.

All right, go back to sleep . . .

In, out, in out, in, out . . .

Several minutes passed and sleep didn't come. He tried to imagine himself snuggled up back in the old bed he once shared with Leia, back when he could actually _breathe,_ back before all this shit happened. He imagined the sensation of taking slow, deep breaths, but the _sound_ always kept him from immersing himself in the fantasy. _Come on Han, go to sleep! You need to warn Leia!_

Damn, he was crazy.

"Leia," he finally said, "I dunno what's goin' on, but _don't_ come to rescue me. Ben knows you're comin'."

Of course, even if she _could_ hear him, she would come to rescue him anyway. He couldn't stop her from exploring the dream, after all. The thought made him want to sigh in frustration, but of course he couldn't do _that_ either. His one hand clenched into a fist and his wrist stump felt empty in its inability to do the same thing.

"Leia, I know I can't stop you from comin' here, but be _careful._ Ben's gettin' something set up." What was he doing? Thinking he could protect Leia by talking to empty air? Trying to reach her in his sleep? Maybe he was finally losing his mind – and who could blame him? Most people might have already gone insane by now.

He turned over to face the wall, the machine in his chest poking him from the inside as it moved. "Honey . . . I need more time. You wanted me to bring Ben home – maybe I can. He's been . . . well okay, he's been cutting off body parts and torturing me on a regular basis . . . and yeah, he put the lightsaber through me in the first place . . . but sometimes I almost see a bit of our son desperately tryin' to come out, like he's trapped inside Kylo Ren or somethin'." He licked his dry, cracked lips, which did little to moisten them. "That sounds crazy, doesn't it? Maybe _I'm_ just crazy."

He turned over again, which brought fresh soreness to his body and once more made the device poke his insides, but the mere ability to _move_ overpowered any pain it brought. His one hand brushed against the device, feeling cold, hard metal where skin once was. His one foot rested on his ankle stump, feeling like it was dangling on an edge instead of comfortably propped up by his second foot.

"Leia . . . if you do come . . . I dunno how you're gonna react to all the stuff that's been done to me. Hell, I dunno how _I'm_ gonna handle the outside world like _this._ " How _would_ he handle it? Maybe he could get used to an artificial hand and foot, but what about his breathing? What about never smelling again? For that matter, he didn't even know how to maintain the thing in his chest – would it just stop if he didn't figure it out?

His head sank into the pillow as memories of his old life with Leia and Ben swirled into his mind and yet again he wondered how everything came to this. That endless question of _why?_ pounded in his head without any answers. Even if a rescue party came and they all got out alive, what about Ben? Would there be no hope for him?

"Ben?" he suddenly whispered without thinking. "Can _you_ hear me? You said I got the Force, so are you listening?" He was drifting into semiconsciousness, but still whispering. "I wanna talk to the _real_ Ben . . . yes, the _real_ Ben. My _son_ . . . I know you're in there . . . listen to me . . . please . . . don't make me give up on you . . . please . . ."

He fell asleep.

. . .

It seemed like hours passed in the smuggling compartment. Maybe Rey dozed for a while or maybe she didn't – the line between sleep and wakefulness was blurring, but the bubble was always in the back of her mind. _Don't find me, don't find me._ So far no one had found her – did that mean it was working?

Her stomach growled, but she bit her lip in a refusal to acknowledge it. She could go without eating for however long it took to reach Han - it wasn't like she didn't have experience with hunger.

Then she realized she had to use the refresher.

She dug her teeth further into her lip, drawing a small amount of blood that brought its unwelcome metallic taste. Come on, she could deal with this. What was a bit of physical discomfort compared to whatever Han was suffering?

Another unknown amount of time passed with the discomfort building and the stomach growls growing louder. She ground her teeth, wishing the Falcon would just _land_ , but nothing happened. Maybe she could quickly sneak to the refresher without anyone catching her. It wouldn't take too long.

Besides, they were in hyperspace. It was too late for anyone to throw her off the ship.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted the floor panel above her and peeked around. When she saw no one, she leapt out of the compartment and quietly raced towards the nearest refresher, still keeping the bubble in her mind.

Once she was out of the refresher, she thought she could slip back to the compartment unnoticed if she kept focused on the bubble – but then she rounded a corner and found herself face-to-face with 3PO.

"Goodness!" the droid exclaimed. "Miss Rey, you are not supposed to be here!"

"Shh!" Rey exclaimed, slapping her hand over the droid's mouth, but it was too late. Already Chewie could be heard roaring her name.

 _Shit, now what?_


	14. Chapter 14

AN: As always, thanks to the readers and reviewers!

Nikki, since you haven't been reviewing with your username (maybe you don't have one), let me answer your question here. The person I was writing "Marital Bliss" with seems to have disappeared, so that story's been sitting in limbo for a while. Maybe I'll continue it someday, maybe I won't, but it's not on the front burner. After I finish this story, I plan on returning to my "Defenders of the Force" series, plus I have some short story ideas.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 14

Kylo Ren knew he was dreaming. He had already been on this bridge; he had already passed his test here, so this had to be a dream. There was no reason to return. He had already killed Han Solo, after all.

Except that Han hadn't had the courtesy to _stay_ dead.

He ran his teeth over his lower lip. Was that why his subconscious had decided to send him back here? Was it taunting his inability to complete that one simple task?

"I _did_ kill Han Solo," he muttered out loud. "It was _Snoke_ who saved him."

And there he was at the end of the bridge, no longer standing – instead crumpled on the floor, a hand, a foot, and a heart missing, a breathing machine in his chest, still the pathetic mess he was when Kylo was awake. He was gazing up at his son, the look in his eyes as desperate as it had been the first time here.

"Ben," he called out in his new rasp of a voice, but it still echoed around the chamber.

Kylo ground his teeth as he stepped closer to his father. "What are you doing here, Han Solo?"

"You said I called out to Leia," said Han. "You said I had a bit of the Force."

"Only a _bit_ ," Kylo interrupted. "Not enough to do anything useful."

Han's gaze hadn't left his son. "Well I apparently got enough to call out to _you."_

Kylo's teeth ground harder – by now he was towering over his father. "Do you _ever_ give up?"

"Not where my son is concerned," said Han. "For a while I thought I _had_ given up, but I never _really_ did. You and your mother were always on my mind no matter what."

Now Kylo wondered what would happen if he pushed Han into the abyss. He could feel his father's actual consciousness here – they were sharing a dream. His hand clenched at the spot where his lightsaber usually was only to wrap around empty air.

Why did this dream take his lightsaber away?

"You are dreaming, Han Solo," he said, concentrating on keeping his voice steady and intimidating.

"And so're you," said Han. "I may be new to this whole havin' the Force thing, but I think I know how _this_ works. We reach out to each other, we go to sleep, we share a dream."

"I was _not_ reaching out to _you,"_ Kylo growled, his foot twitching with the urge to kick Han off the edge.

"You sure?" asked Han, his eyes still refusing to leave his son's. "I think I'm on your mind a _lot_ right now."

Kylo growled again. A simple kick would be enough to send Han into the endless void and perhaps wake them both up . . . so why wasn't his foot moving? Had he lost the strength gained from sending Han into the void the _first_ time?

"I know there's a lotta confusion in you, Ben," Han continued. "Whatever I did to make you hate me, I'm sorry."

" _Sorry_ means nothing," Kylo spat.

Han still kept gazing at his son, his eyes glistening. "I tried to be a good father, I really did. I'm sorry I failed, but Ben, no matter what, your mother and I never stopped loving you."

" _I love you, Ben."_

Suddenly the memories Han had tormented Kylo with earlier came rushing back into his head like a tidal wave, poking every corner of his mind with his childhood. He saw his parents, his uncle, Chewie, his old home on Coruscant, his cousins on Naboo, he saw _himself,_ a smiling child in his parents' tight embrace.

" _I love you, Ben."_

In some moments he almost believed he was still a child. In others it was like he was looking at a different person. In still others it was like a dream inside the dream he was already in.

" _I love you, Ben."_

His face scrunched, his eyes squeezed shut, his hands covered his ears as if he were being bombarded by loud noises. Sweat was dripping down his face and his heart was pounding against his ribs as if it wanted to burst out of his body just like Han's heart.

" _I love you, Ben."_

He remembered his parents' embrace, how they would both gather him into their arms at the same time and embrace each other while they were at it. It was warm, comforting, during those moments he almost believed the nightmares would go away . . .

 _No._

He _wasn't_ going to succumb, no matter how much Han Solo tried to weaken him.

Finally his eyes opened. There was his father _still_ gazing up at him, a glint of hope in his eyes.

And there was the ledge.

"Ben," Han whispered again.

No, Kylo wasn't going to acknowledge him even with a kick into the abyss. He had to get out of this dream, _without_ his father.

He jumped.

. . .

Kylo instantly woke up, back in his familiar quarters, panting rapidly. It took several moments to gain control of his breath and several more moments to get his hands to stop shaking. The sweat that the dream had produced had followed him into the waking world, dampening his pillow.

"Han Solo . . ." he whispered out loud through his teeth, his hands slowly clenching into fists. How _dare_ he! Now he was invading his son's _dreams?_ Was _nowhere_ safe from him?

He leapt out of bed and without turning on the lights, he rushed over to the spot where he knew his grandfather's helmet was. "Grandfather, I need your help," he said in a rapid, desperate voice. "Han Solo is weakening me again . . . I almost succumbed. Please Grandfather, give me strength . . ." He dropped to his knees as if praying to the helmet. "The light's pulling me again, Grandfather, I can feel it _inside_ me . . . please help . . ."

Suddenly he stopped, his Force senses twitching. He took a deep, shaking breath, looking around his room even though it was dark, reaching out into the Force and finding something that made a small smile creep across his face.

The rescue party was coming for Han.

. . .

"How could you _do_ this, Rey?" Luke exclaimed. "You _knew_ Kylo Ren wanted you!"

Rey glared at her father. "Did you really expect me _not_ to come?"

Luke sighed. "No, but I'm your _father._ I had _hoped_ you would listen to me."

"My _father?"_ Rey spat. "You've only been my _father_ for a few days! Do you think you can just show up after _years –_ no wait, you _didn't_ show up, I had to come _get_ you!" Her hands were clenching. "You have _no_ right to start acting like you have some kind of authority over me when you _abandoned me!"_

Luke momentarily looked like he'd been punched in the stomach, but he quickly regained his composure. "Rey, you have every right to be angry at me, but this isn't about me – it's about _you!_ Snoke wants _you!"_

"I _know!"_ Rey snapped back. "But I'm _not_ going to turn! Why can't you _trust_ me?"

Leia stepped up to her niece, and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Rey, we _do_ trust you, but you don't understand the dark side. I've already lost my son to it . . ."

"Your _son!_ " Rey interrupted. "I'm NOTHING like your son!"

"Rey, please," Luke said in a softer voice, "stay here, for us."

Rey gave them a hard look. "I'm going with you for _Han,_ and you're _not_ going to stop me."

"Then can't you respect _Han_ enough to stay here?" Leia asked, the hard look on her face echoing Rey's. " _He_ was the one who warned me not to let you come!"

The inside of Rey's cheeks ran against her teeth, but her glare didn't falter. "I'm coming with you and you can't stop me. Han needs _all_ of us."

Just then, the alarm that signaled that they were coming out of hyperspace sounded and Chewie called from the cockpit that they were coming in on Teth.

Rey ran towards the ship's exit before anyone could say anything else.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Thanks once again for reading and reviewing!

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 15

After Leia and Chewie landed the Falcon, Rey stood by the spot where the ramp would lower, her arms folded over the lightsaber tucked in her shirt. She ground her teeth behind her lips when she spotted her _father_ heading her way. Should she even acknowledge him as her father? What had he done to earn that title?

"Rey," said Luke, "I'm asking you again, _please_ stay here."

"You know I won't," Rey responded.

Luke audibly swallowed. "Rey, listen, a long time ago I was in a similar position. I saw visions of Leia and Han suffering and I rushed out to save them without listening to my masters. Do you know what happened?" He held up his artificial hand. " _This_ happened!"

Rey glared at the hand. "Well isn't losing a hand worth it to save someone you care about?"

"How about losing your _soul?"_ Luke pressed.

Rey raised her glare to her father's eyes. "We can keep arguing, but that's wasting precious time, isn't it? Who knows what they're doing to Han right now?"

"Rey, as your father I'm asking you to stay here!"

"And what will you do if I refuse? Freeze me in place with the Force? Knock me out with the Force? Your _nephew_ already did both those things – are you like him?"

Just then Leia and Chewie showed up, each of them armed and each one looking warily at Rey as if they expected her to spontaneously turn to the dark side in front of them.

"Rey, we don't have time for this," said Leia.

"You're right," Rey retorted, "so you'll just have to accept that I'm coming."

Chewie put a paw on her head. [Rey, it's all right. We'll bring Han back.]

"You'll need my help!" Rey exclaimed in a near-shout, flinching away from Chewie's touch.

"You don't _know_ that!" said Luke.

"And _you_ don't know that you _won't!"_

With that, Rey pushed the button to lower the ramp, not taking her glare off of her father and aunt. Once the ramp was down, she charged outside, clutching her grandfather's lightsaber against her chest.

. . .

"You are free to use whatever means necessary against the intruders," Kylo Ren announced to the mass of stormtroopers in front of him. "Stun them, injure them, but I want them alive." His brow furrowed. "However, there is one I do not want harmed in any way. A young human female with brown hair – she is to be captured unharmed and taken directly to me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the stormtroopers affirmed in unison.

"Do not underestimate the intruders," Kylo continued. "They are skilled in combat and stealth. Three of them can also use the Force – including the girl I want. Do not let her unthreatening stance fool you."

"Yes, sir," the stormtroopers repeated.

"Very good," said Kylo. "Proceed, and when you have the girl, let me know immediately. Dismissed."

As the troops filed out of the room, Kylo remained in place, his face still, his demeanor stoic, nothing in his outward appearance betraying his thoughts even taking the lack of a mask into account. The twist in his stomach and the tightness in his chest were unacknowledged as he strived to keep himself focused.

Soon they would have his entire family.

His mother, his uncle, Chewie . . .

His cousin.

. . .

The monastery was dark, with a strange chill in the air. Guided only by the glow of Luke's lightsaber, the group of Leia, Luke, Chewie, and the droids slowly made their way down the empty corridor.

"Rey?" Luke whispered. "Rey, where are you?" He tried reaching out with the Force, but his senses felt dull, as if he were trying to see through a thick cloud of fog. He could sense life forms, but he couldn't distinguish between them or pinpoint where they were. Rey, Han – they could be _anyone._

R2 gave a frightened beep to which 3PO replied, "R2, I do believe it was a mistake to come here."

"3PO, shh!" Leia whispered. "R2, look for a terminal – maybe it will tell us where Han is."

After several minutes of trudging in the dark, R2 finally beeped that he found a terminal, where he immediately plugged himself in. Luke found himself holding his breath as the astromech downloaded the information. Maybe Han wasn't here after all. Maybe Leia's dream had only been her subconscious showing her what she wanted to see.

Maybe Han was actually dead.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, R2 beeped in an excited tone.

"He says he thinks he found something," 3PO translated. "Five levels up, cell seventeen. It might be General Solo."

Chewie gave a soft roar, raising his crossbow.

"Chewie, come on," said Leia. "Let's go get him."

"I'll look for Rey," said Luke.

Suddenly the corridor flooded with light, causing all eyes to squint. Stormtroopers came running in from all directions, blasters raised at the group, blocking all means of escape.

"Freeze!" one of the troopers yelled. "Drop your weapons or face the consequences!"

. . .

Rey inched against the walls of the corridor, only breathing when necessary, clutching the lightsaber. She ducked behind stormtroopers on tiptoe, ducked across halls, wove herself this way and that. _Han, where are you?_ She had thought the Force would give her some sort of sign, but nothing was coming, not even when she pressed his image into her mind. A persistent chill was running through her body as the memory of Han being run through entered her head.

No, don't think about that. Han was alive – they knew that for s _ure_ now.

Didn't they?

But how _could_ he have survived that?

Down another corridor, but this one actually led to an open room. She stopped. Something felt . . . _familiar_ here, as if the room were calling her. Maybe _this_ was where Han was. After a swallow, she carefully stepped into the darkened room.

And the door slid shut behind her.

Her breath shortened as she stepped further into the darkened room. _Someone_ was here, someone she knew, but the identity remained elusive. The further into the room she got, the more she felt that the other being wasn't Han . . .

Then came a voice – a voice she knew, but a voice she had never wanted to hear again.

"Hello, cousin. I've been waiting for you."

. . .

"Drop your weapons!"

"Oh my!" shouted 3PO, immediately putting his hands up. "We surrender!"

The others, however, remained still for one second, two seconds, three seconds . . .

Then Chewie shot one of the troopers.

With that, both sides fired at once. Leia and Chewie skillfully shot the troopers while ducking their blasts and Luke rapidly blocked the blasts with his lightsaber. Leia fired shot after shot, her heart racing not just from the battle. Every second felt like a second lost from Han. He could be dying right now and she wasn't there to help him.

"Leia! Chewie!" Luke shouted. "Go get Han, I can hold them off!"

"Are you sure?" Leia called back as she shot another trooper.

"Yes!" said Luke, grunting as he rotated his lightsaber in rhythm with the blasts.

After gazing at her brother and shooting one last stormtrooper, Leia ran down the corridor. "Come on, Chewie," she called, but the Wookiee was already following her.

Up and down corridors, up stairs, up and down more corridors, up more stairs, always sneaking around guards. Leia kept her Force senses reaching out, searching for Han. At some times she _thought_ she could feel him, but at others she wondered if she was just convincing herself that she felt him because she so desperately wanted him to be alive.

She counted floors, then she counted cells, closer and closer to the place where Han might be, and all the while something seemed to be clenching her stomach and squeezing tighter and tighter, almost to the point where it might burst. "I'm coming, Han," she whispered, maybe to assure him or maybe to assure herself.

Finally they arrived. Level five, cell seventeen. The tightness in Leia's stomach had spread to her chest. Han might be behind this door . . . or he might not. Again she _thought_ she sensed him, but she couldn't trust herself not to _want_ to think she sensed him. This moment could confirm Han's status as either living or dead.

Chewie put a gentle paw on her shoulder. [It's all right, Leia. We'll go in together . . . and no matter what happens, you did everything you could for him.]

After reaching up and stroking Chewie's paw, Leia filled her lungs with air and opened the door.

It was a small, dimly lit cell. Once Leia entered she became aware of a soft, mechanical sound, like her father's artificial breath but weaker. A slight tremble went through her as she scanned the room. One wall was bare except for a small sink and the wall across was taken up by a bunk in which someone lay motionless.

The world span as Leia leaned over the figure in the bed, wrapped up in a blanket up to his neck, his eyes squeezed shut, the mechanical breath noise coming from him.

"Han . . ."


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Thanks as always to all the readers and reviewers! Man, Leia and Han have been apart for fifteen chapters – I don't know if I've ever written about them being apart for so long.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 16

She was looking at Han's corpse.

It certainly looked like a corpse. His pale, almost white head was the only thing that showed over the blanket, limply turned to the side, his hair slightly longer than it was the last time she saw him, his skin tightly clinging to his skull, his forehead lined with blue veins. He was dead after all . . . but wait, she could feel his life strand in the Force.

It was sharp now, not an imagined sensation.

Here he was in front of her, not a dream.

Alive, alive, _alive._

But _what_ was that mechanical breathing sound?

[Han . . .] Chewie whispered from in front of the doorway.

After a deep breath, Leia's hand inched towards her husband's face, her fingers waving under his nose.

Feeling nothing.

No air.

He _wasn't breathing._

He wasn't breathing . . . yet Leia still felt life flowing from him.

The mechanical breath . . .

What was under the blanket?

She didn't want to look . . . she couldn't look . . . no . . .

But her hand was moving again, closer and closer to the blanket's edge. She remembered how in the dream Han hadn't wanted her to see whatever had been done to him, but she had to know what had kept him alive after his mortal wound . . . what damage their son had inflicted. Her dreams had already told her that he was missing a hand, but she could sense that there was more.

Finally she peeled back a bit of the blanket, revealing a tube plugged into a hole in his neck. Her mouth sucked in a gasp as she peeled the blanket back further. The tube snaked down into his open shirt, where the other end plugged into something else under the shirt. As for what it was, she couldn't tell. The hole in his shirt – that hole where Ben's lightsaber had stabbed him – through it she saw something gray and metallic that seemed to have replaced part of his chest.

Numbness swam through her body as she dropped the blanket. "Han . . ." Her voice came out in the smallest of whispers. ". . . what have they done to you?"

Chewie was howling softly behind her. They both stared down at Han for several lingering moments, that mechanical breathing sound sending a stupor of a mood through the cell. They had to get him out of here . . . they _had_ to . . . so why couldn't Leia move? Why did she keep staring through that hole as if staring at it long enough would reveal what had happened? Her mind kept flashing to her visions of her husband being stabbed through the heart. What was that on his chest? What was _in_ his chest?

In, out, in, out, in, out . . .

Then Han stirred.

Leia drew in her breath as her husband's eyes slowly fluttered open. "Han?" she asked, still in a hushed voice.

He didn't seem completely awake. He blinked up at her as if trying to bring her into focus, then he just stared up at her for several seconds, during which she could hardly breathe.

"Leia?" he finally said, his voice still that tiny rasp it had been in her dream. "A-am . . . am I . . . are _we_ dreamin' again?"

Leia felt her eyes welling up. "No," she said, putting her hand on his cheek and stroking his tiny, prickly stubble. "I'm here . . . I'm here, Han . . . here for _real."_

"For real . . ." He sounded like he couldn't believe those words. After a few more seconds, his right hand came out from under the blanket and reached up to her, stroking her hairline. "Y-you . . . you shouldn't have come . . ."

"Oh stop," said Leia. "I told you I wasn't going to give up on you."

She leaned over and kissed his lips, a kiss that had been overdue for years, a kiss with the same longing passion as when she'd saved him from the carbonite so many years ago. His lips hungrily responded to hers as his hand caressed her head.

She tried not to think of how she only felt _one_ hand caressing her.

After they pulled out of the kiss, Chewie apparently decided that it was all right to make his presence known – he rushed up to the bed, calling Han's name over and over.

"Hey, pal," Han responded as the Wookiee ruffled his hair.

[Han, what happened?] Chewie asked. [How did you survive?]

Han groaned slightly. "Long story short, Snoke decided I was valuable and had me _reassembled._ Thanks to Ben's lightsaber, I can't breathe without this machine's help and I don't have a heart anymore – _that's_ a machine too."

Chewie roared in dismay as Leia concentrated on keeping herself from trembling. She could think about that later – right now there were more pressing matters. "Han, we have to get you out of here. Can you walk?"

Han glanced at the foot of the bed, a sudden worried look on his face. "Well . . ."

Before he could say anything else, Leia reached down and lifted the blanket off of Han's feet as if something were compelling her to do so.

There was Han's right foot, the skin as pale and vein-lined as his face, but otherwise it was the same foot she knew.

However, in the spot where the left foot should have been, there was only a poorly-knotted pants leg.

" _Han!"_ she gasped.

Han's eyes lowered as if he were ashamed of what had happened to him. "Yeah . . . _that's_ why I can't walk."

Chewie wailed.

"And your hand too?" Leia whispered.

Han's eyes lowered further – he looked like he wanted to sink back under the blanket. "You already know that from the dream."

Chewie wailed again while Leia gulped. _Don't tremble,_ she told herself, _don't tremble, you have to be strong for Han._ "Well . . . do you think you can be moved?"

Han's mouth twisted a little. "Well . . . a couple of stormtroopers dragged me outta here to see Snoke once."

"Snoke?" Leia exclaimed. "Snoke's here?"

"He _was . . ."_

With that, Leia instantly flicked her commlink off her belt and punched in a call to Pooja. An eternity seemed to pass between every beep until her cousin finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Pooja, it's Leia. I've found Han."

"You _have?"_

"Yes," Leia said in a rapid voice, "he's alive and he says Snoke might be here. Alert the Resistance and send reinforcements to Teth."

"I will, I will!"

Once she hung up, Leia turned to Chewie. "Chewie, do you think you can carry him without disturbing that machine?"

"Wait," said Han, holding up his single hand. "Leia, have you seen Ben?"

"Ben?" The numbness returned to Leia's body. "No, but we have to get you out of here."

"Leia, please," said Han, "we have to at least try to get him to come with us."

"After what he did to you?" Leia exclaimed in a near-shout. "Han, the last time you tried to get him to come home he _stabbed you!_ He . . . he caused all _this."_

Han blinked up at her. "Yeah . . . he did. But sweetheart . . . I dunno how to explain it . . . sometimes it seems like way way deep down he still wants to come home. I even . . ." His eyes widened as if a memory were just now returning to him. ". . . I even talked to him in a dream, like how I talked to you. There's still some of the old Ben in there."

"Han . . ."

"Didn't _you_ think the same thing before I left?" Han pressed. "You wanted me to bring him home – well now I want that too."

Leia took a deep breath, then another, still seeing that moment on the bridge in her mind . . . but also seeing her living husband in front of her – crippled for the rest of his life, but still willing to see good in their son.

"All right," she finally whispered. "Now let's go."


	17. Chapter 17

AN: Thanks again for reading and reviewing!

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 17

"Kylo Ren . . ."

The cross-shaped blade activated, its red glow illuminating her cousin's face.

Rey grasped her grandfather's lightsaber, staring into her cousin's eyes.

"That lightsaber _still_ belongs to me," Kylo growled.

Rey squeezed the lightsaber tighter, her thumb lingering over the button. "Where's Han?" she demanded.

A wicked grin crept across Kylo's face. "What makes you think he's here? Didn't you see him die?"

Rey bared her teeth. " _Don't_ lie to me! I _know_ he's here."

"I _cut him through the chest,_ remember?" Kylo was relishing in his words, his eyes glowing eerily in the saber's light. "Then he exploded into _millions of pieces_ when your Resistance destroyed Starkiller Base." His grin grew wider. "Would you like to hear how much he _suffered_ just before he died?"

With that, Rey's lightsaber was activated and with a loud growl, she swung it at her cousin.

Kylo easily blocked her attack. "Rey, Rey, Rey, I'm surprised at you. You know we're cousins now, don't you?"

"I don't care!" Rey snarled, swinging the blade at him again and once more clashing against his saber, the light from both blades squinting her eyes.

"So you would kill your own cousin?"

" _Yes!"_ Rey yelled. "I _will_ if you don't tell me where Han is _now!"_

"Is that what your father's been teaching you? That senselessly killing is the Jedi way?" He slid his lightsaber away from hers, taking a few steps backward. "He _has_ been teaching you, right? He surely wouldn't refuse to train his own _daughter_ in the Force."

With those words, Rey couldn't keep herself from trembling.

"Ah," said Kylo, "so he _hasn't_ been teaching you. How sad. Leaving his daughter defenseless . . ."

Another scream emerged from Rey's lips as she once again leapt at her cousin and he once again blocked her.

"We could do this all day," said Kylo, "but it doesn't help your precious Han Solo."

" _Where – is – he?"_ she growled.

"He was stabbed through the heart," said Kylo. "How do you think he could survive that?"

"I don't know," said Rey, a bead of sweat drizzling down her face, "but our grandfather was _set on fire_ and he survived!"

Kylo smirked. "Clever girl. I can see why Snoke wants you."

"Snoke?" Rey exclaimed. "Is he here?"

"He _was,_ but he left as soon as he sensed you coming." His grin seemed to grow even more sinister. "Just like your _father."_

Rey attacked again.

Kylo blocked again.

They stood again with their blades crossed, the hum vibrating in Rey's ears.

"You have so much potential," said Kylo. "Too bad your _father_ will never help you reach it."

"It's because of _you_ that he won't!" Rey spat. " _You_ killed my mother! _You_ killed the Jedi! _You_ put Finn in a coma!" She pressed her blade into his, filling the chamber with a hiss and bringing soreness to her arms. "And _you_ tried to kill _your own father!"_

"Han Solo _needed_ to die!" Kylo spat back, glaring at her through the crossed blades of red and blue light. For several moments the cousins stared at each other through that gap between blades, as if each were waiting for the other to move.

"But . . ." Kylo finally said, ". . . suppose he _was_ alive . . . what would you do to save him?"

"Anything," Rey answered without hesitation.

The sinister grin was back on his face. "Just what I wanted to hear."

. . .

[Han, this might hurt,] said Chewie.

Han gave a slight shrug. "I've been in some form of pain ever since I woke up here – a little more won't make any difference."

Bit by bit, Chewie slid one arm behind Han's back and another under his knees and carefully lifted him up. Han flinched in pain at being moved, but the machine in his chest still seemed to be functioning. "Thanks, pal," he whispered, wrapping his right arm around the Wookiee's neck and resting his head on his chest.

Chewie's chest was still as strong as it always was, still as soft as it always was, but something felt . . . _empty_ now, as if an important part was missing. At first he thought it was because of the breathing machine – but then he realized that he wasn't smelling the thick odor Chewie usually gave off.

He swallowed, trying unsuccessfully not to think about how it felt like some element of Chewie's comforting presence had been cut away forever. What other familiar things would feel incomplete now that he was missing his sense of smell?

"Han?" Leia asked. "Are you all right?"

Han gave a tiny, forced grin. "You're really askin' me _that_?"

"You just seemed to space out for a minute," said Leia.

Han swallowed again, his grin automatically fading. "Well . . . there's somethin' else you guys should know." He glanced into his wife's eyes. "Since I can't breathe anymore . . . I can't smell either. Yeah I know, it ain't like I'm blind or deaf, but I still lost one of my senses . . ."

Leia instantly ran her hand through his hair. "Honey, I understand. You've had to adjust to a _lot_ – we'll _all_ have a lot to adjust to – but right now we need to get out of here."

"Find Ben first," said Han.

Leia took a deep breath. "All right, we'll find Ben – but first we need to find Luke and Rey."

" _Rey?"_ Han exclaimed. "I told you not to let her come!"

Leia sighed. "We tried, but she's her father's daughter – she stowed away."

"Well then we gotta find her before . . . wait, _Luke?_ You guys actually _found_ Luke?"

Leia nodded. "He'll be happy to see you."

. . .

The threesome crept up and down corridors, sneaking around stormtroopers and guards. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to being moved, but Han was already feeling a cloud in his mind. Several times he realized his eyelids were drooping and he had to blink himself back into wakefulness. _Stay awake,_ he repeated to himself. _Stay awake . . ._

Finally the hum of a lightsaber echoed from around a corner. Leia froze, blaster pointed in front of her, and Han tensed up, wondering if this could be Ben.

Would Ben be as wrathful with his mother as he was with his father?

But the light that came around the corner was green, not red. In another moment, 3PO and R2 emerged from around the corner, along with a man who was older and more disheveled than he was when Han had last seen him, but he had no difficulty recognizing him. He imagined that his heart would be jumping if it was still in his body, much like how it had jumped when he and Leia were reunited after their long separation.

"Luke?"

"Han?" Luke stared at his brother-in-law, as if trying to figure out whether or not he was imagining things. Maybe the kid even wondered if Han was a ghost – he had seen ghosts before, after all. How long had it been anyway? The last several years blurred together in Han's mind as if nothing important had happened until he found Rey and Finn.

Finally he decided to break the silence.

"Why the _hell_ did you grow a beard?"


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Thanks as always to the readers and reviewers!

"Without A Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 18

A small smirk crossed Luke's lips as he shook his head. "Same old Han. Well you try living for years on a planet where you're the only sentient creature and see if you feel like shaving."

Han twisted his mouth. "You got a _lot_ to answer for, kid."

The smirk instantly faded. "You're right, I do." He stepped closer to Han, his eyes growing wider and wider as he did so. "Han . . ." His gaze traced over his handless arm, his footless leg, and finally settled on the tube in his neck. "What . . . what _happened_ to you?"

"A _lot,"_ Han said as Chewie gently pushed up his back to keep him balanced.

Luke didn't seem to blink as he moved even closer, close enough to touch his brother-in-law if he reached out. For a moment Han thought of hiding his face in Chewie's chest, then he thought of telling Luke not to come any closer, but he ended up doing neither. He just swallowed as Luke's breath shortened. "Han . . ." he whispered again, barely audible over the _sound,_ ". . . I'm sorry . . ."

Han cocked his head a bit, slightly pulling the neck tube. "You sound like _you_ did this stuff."

Luke's eyes lowered. "From a certain point of view, I did. I taught Ben about the Force and gave him the ability to commit all these horrors, then when you and Leia needed me the most I cowardly ran away from everything . . . even my _daughter_ . . ."

Han held up his stump wrist. "I hate self-pity, kid. Least you're here _now_ – even if you're a few years too late. Hey, my kid just stuck a lightsaber through me and cut off a few body parts, but at least you're here _now._ " He rested his stump back on his waist when he realized Luke was staring at it. "Does Rey know you're her dad, or did you do the whole Obi-Wan thing?"

The Jedi gulped. "Yes, she knows . . . but she's not happy about it."

"Well," said Han, "then we'd better go find her before her daddy issues send her down the same path as my son's did."

. . .

"Where . . . is . . . Han?" This time Rey's words were cold, steady, direct, her glaring eyes as cold as her words.

Their lightsabers crossed again. By now the blades' heat had drawn so much sweat that it was dripping down Rey's face and soaking her hair.

"You keep saying that," said Kylo. "If I didn't answer before, what makes you think I'd answer now?"

Rey ground her teeth, feeling the vibration in her mouth.

"You said you would do _anything_ to help him," said Kylo, stepping backwards onto a tall flight of stairs that seemed to lead up to a large throne. "The father you never had – you would indeed do _anything_ for him. After all, even in those few days he was still more of a father than your _real_ father could ever be."

Rey growled, swinging her lightsaber at him, but he ducked away, prancing further up the steps.

" _Who_ would be so cruel that he would abandon his child?" Kylo taunted, still walking backwards up the steps. "Leave her on a desolate planet where she lives on false hope that he will return one day?"

"Stop it!" Rey yelled.

"Was she not worth saving? Couldn't he have taken her with him when he ran away and left the galaxy to its fate?"

Rey ran up the stairs, madly swinging at her cousin only to be blocked yet again. "ENOUGH! Tell me where Han is NOW!"

Kylo's maniacal grin shone in the saber light. "He is _very close_ to death, so close that he might in fact be dead already. After all, how can you survive with no heart?"

" _You_ seem to be doing pretty well at that," Rey growled.

A slight snicker escaped his lips. "So you have a sense of humor. I look forward to getting to know you better." He took another step further up the stairs, two at a time. "We'll have a lot of time to get to know each other during your training."

"I'll _never_ join you!" Rey spat.

"Really?" said Kylo. "What if it were the only way to save Han Solo?"

She froze in mid-step, her lightsaber still raised in front of her. Her breath shortened as if she were on a ship where the life support had suddenly turned off. "You're . . . you're trying to trick me," she managed to say.

"Really?" Kylo asked again. "And how do you know that?"

"That's what the dark side is – deception!" Rey shouted. " _You_ might have been stupid enough to fall for its lies, but _I'm_ not!"

"So you will sacrifice your dear Han Solo for your own pride," said Kylo, that grin back on his face.

"No," said Rey, climbing up another step. "I'll _kill you_ and find him _myself!"_

She swung the lightsaber again, again, again, always clashing against his blade. No matter what direction she attacked from, he easily mirrored her moves and seemed to anticipate them in advance.

"You have talent," said Kylo, "but you lack _skill._ Skill that your _father_ won't teach you!"

 _Kill him!_ a voice inside her seemed to cry. _Kill him!_

She kept swinging at him, though her arms were beginning to tire and the lightsaber was starting to weigh down on them. _Kill him! He needs to die!_

Kylo still blocked her moves with perfect accuracy and seemed to have plenty of energy left. In fact, he seemed to be _enjoying_ it.

"Do you think Han Solo wants his niece to be defenseless?" Kylo taunted. "Well she will _remain_ defenseless if she stays with her _father!"_

 _Kill him!_

The hums and hisses of the two blades swinging and clashing echoed around the chamber, surrounding the cousins, digging into Rey's ears.

"Rey!"

The voice was her father's, but she refused to respond or even look his way – she just kept swinging again and again at her cousin. Sooner or later he would have to miss with his blocking.

"Ben . . . Rey . . . stop this . . ."

She froze again, nearly dropping the lightsaber. That voice . . . it was soft and raspy . . . but still recognizable . . .

"Han . . ." she whispered.

Kylo was suddenly glaring over Rey's shoulder in a disgusted manner. Without taking her eyes off her cousin or deactivating her lightsaber, she slowly stepped backward. One step, two steps, three steps . . . Kylo wasn't following her, but still she didn't look away until she reached the bottom.

There they were – Luke, Leia, Chewie . . . and in Chewie's arms was Han.

With that she ran up to the group, ready to throw her arms around her uncle, but she stopped inches away from him. His left pants leg was knotted up around what was _supposed_ to be his foot . . . _supposed_ to be, but his leg simply _stopped_ before it got to his foot. Her body trembled as her eyes traced his body and stopped on his left arm, where the sleeve was knotted around his wrist, which also _stopped_ before it got to his hand.

"Han . . ." she whispered as her eyes settled on the tube and her ears became aware of that horrible _sound,_ the breath that sounded like a raspy, steady gasp, in, out, in, out, in, out . . .

Han gazed at her, forcing a tiny smile. "Hey," he said in a whisper as raspy as the noise.

"Han . . . what's _happened_ to you?" Before her uncle could answer, she turned back to face her cousin, still on the steps. He was looking on with a cold, unfeeling expression, staring at his father as if he were a dead animal that needed to be removed.

"You did this . . ." she whispered. "You did this." Her voice grew louder and louder as she rushed back to the stairs, once more activating her lightsaber. "You did this . . . you did this . . . YOU DID THIS!"

She leaped at her cousin.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Thanks once again to everyone who reads and reviews! Sorry this chapter took a little longer than usual – it was pretty hard to write.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 19

"Rey! No!"

Luke's cry was lost on his daughter as she charged at Ben and their lightsabers clashed again. Han could only stare at the son he had lost and the niece he was losing. "Ben! Rey!" he called again, but his tiny rasp of a voice went either unheard or ignored. He ground his teeth, wishing he could walk, wishing he could talk sense into them, wishing he could do _something._

Suddenly Luke jumped up the steps, landing parallel to the fighting cousins and thrashing his lightsaber between their blades. "ENOUGH!" he shouted.

"Stay out of this," Rey hissed.

Ben gave his uncle an amused look. "Luke Skywalker. Did you get tired of sitting on an empty planet?"

"Both of you, stop this," Luke said in a surprisingly calm tone.

"He needs to die!" Rey snarled. "If no one else has the guts to kill him, _I_ will!"

"Rey, ENOUGH!" Leia shouted as she ran up the stairs, staring at her son, blinking at him as if she wondered if he was real. "Ben . . ."

Even with his heart missing, Han felt his chest tighten. The confrontation on the bridge . . . the moment of hope before his near-death . . . was Leia heading there now? "Leia!" he called out as best he could, but once again his cry went either unheard or ignored.

Still frozen in a battle stance, Ben sneered at his mother. "Leia Organa. Why are you here?"

"I came for my husband – and for my _son,_ " said Leia in the determined voice Han knew so well. "I want my _family_ back together. We _all_ do."

"Well," Ben snapped, "it looks like the whole family _is_ together." His glare now turned to his father, his breath heaving. "Are you happy, Han Solo?"

"Ben," said Han, "I'll say it again, come _home."_

Rey's breath heaved through her teeth like a predator about to leap. "HOW can any of you invite him back home after what he did to Han?"

Luke kept his lightsaber between the other two, a barricade separating them. "Rey, just stop."

"HOW can you say that?" Rey screamed. "Don't you remember how he _killed your wife?"_

Luke sighed, but his stance didn't waver. "Yes, I remember."

Han wrapped his arm tighter around Chewie's neck. "Chewie, take me closer to them."

[No,] Chewie immediately responded.

"C'mon Chewie . . ."

[I'm _not_ losing you again!]

Han would have sighed if he'd been able. The Wookiee's top priority had always been protecting him. "Chewie, please," he persisted. "I need to talk to them." He gazed up at his long-time friend. "He needs his family."

Chewie gave a slight growl that Han couldn't exactly make out, but he thought he heard the Wookiee words for "stubborn" and "foolish" in there.

"C'mon, buddy," said Han. "I got you to protect me this time, don't I?"

Finally the Wookiee nodded – hesitantly, but still he nodded. He wrapped his arms as tightly around Han as he could without disturbing the breathing machine and headed for the steps, where Rey and Ben were still frozen in their battle stances as if each were waiting for the other to make a move and Luke and Leia were still begging them to stop it.

"Ben, listen to me," Leia was saying, her voice steadier than Han's had been on the bridge. "It's _not_ too late to turn back. I know your father's been talking to you – didn't _anything_ he said matter?"

"No," Ben responded in a quick, automatic voice. "He is _nothing,_ just like _you_ are nothing!"

"Ben . . . sweetheart . . ."

"HOW CAN YOU CALL HIM THAT?" Rey screamed loudly enough to echo around the room.

"Rey," Luke said in a firm, calm voice, "I know you're feeling a lot of anger – I've felt it too – but you _need_ to fight it."

"Rey," said Han, "enough. You think killin' him's gonna fix me? Or bring back your mom? Or turn back time so you weren't alone all those years?"

Rey snarled. "Do you think _not_ killing him will stop him from killing _others?_ How _long_ have you been trying with him? How long have _all_ of you been trying?"

Ben, meanwhile, was smirking as if this were all a big joke. "They are indeed pitiful, aren't they?" His head turned to face his father, though the rest of his body remained poised to block Rey's attacks. "Well Han Solo, here we are again. Father, son, mother, uncle, cousin. Perhaps you would all like to die together."

"You ain't gonna kill me again," Han found himself saying, though his stomach tightened as he did so. "You ain't gonna kill any of us. I know you, Ben."

"Ben is GONE!"

Han slightly shook his head, trying in vain to push memories of the bridge out of his head. "You're wrong. I know for _sure_ you're wrong this time. You're scared, you're confused, but you're still our Ben deep down." He blinked at his son, his eyes moistening. "I'll never breathe again. I'll never smell again. My heart, hand, and foot are gone forever . . . but if you came back to us I'd be the happiest man in the universe." The little boy he loved danced around in his mind – literally danced, his tiny feet on Leia's feet, his hands clasped in his mother's, both of them laughing as they danced in a small circle to Han's clapping and off-key singing.

"Ben, you've read my mind," Han continued. "You know I'm tellin' the truth. The first words I ever said to you are still true – I love you, Ben."

After glancing from her husband to her son and back again, Leia stepped forward, close enough for Ben to slice through her if he chose, yet Han strangely wasn't afraid of that happening. Maybe it was the tiny bit of Force-sensitivity Ben said he had, but he felt like his wife was safe.

"Ben," she said in that same steady voice, reaching out and stroking his shoulder in a motherly fashion, "we all love you. Even with everything you've done to Han, to the Jedi, you're still my baby. I carried you in my womb and nothing can ever change that."

Ben said nothing – he only stared at his parents with those wide, uncertain eyes he'd had on the bridge.

"Ben," said Luke, "I'm sorry I failed as a teacher and an uncle . . . but I forgive you . . . and I'm sure if your aunt were alive she would forgive you too . . ."

Chewie roared that he could forgive Ben too – so long as he never hurt Han again.

Ben's gaze whipped around his family, his face looking almost frightened. The lightsaber trembled a bit in his hands, but he still said nothing.

Then he looked at his father with a single tear streaming down his cheek.

He might have said something, might have allowed the light side to take him back, but there was one family member who hadn't offered him forgiveness.

Rey suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream, similar to the screams Ben had given when Han had shown him memories. In the moment of guards having been let down, her lightsaber pushed Luke's aside.

And sliced through Ben's wrists.

"REY! NO!" Luke shouted as Ben's hands and lightsaber went flying and Ben cried out in pain. In sheer rage, she raised her lightsaber again, but her father grabbed her wrists from behind, preventing her from inflicting further damage.

"Rey, DON'T do this!" he yelled.

"He has to die!" she screamed, struggling in his grasp. "He has to die, he has to die, he has to die!"

Luke wrapped his arms around her from behind and gently deactivated her lightsaber. "Rey, come on . . . walk away while you still can . . . please . . . walk away . . ."

Suddenly, as if she only just realized what she had done, Rey stopped struggling and within a moment, her body started shaking and she sobbed heavily into her father's chest.

Meanwhile, Ben had collapsed on the stairs, blood pouring out of his wrists – Rey's cut had been far less clean than Ben's had been.

"BEN!" Leia shouted, instantly kneeling down next to him and ripping a strip of fabric from her pants leg. "Here son, hold still." She wrapped the fabric around his right stump, where the blood quickly soaked it up.

"Chewie, put me down," said Han, and for once Chewie didn't argue – he gently placed Han down on his son's other side. "Leia, here," he said quickly, offering the sleeve that covered his own stump.

Leia ripped off part of the sleeve and wrapped up Ben's other stump while Han stroked his son's sweat-drenched hair with his only hand. "It's gonna be okay, son," he whispered. "It's gonna be okay . . ."

Ben only looked up at his father, his face pale and trembling, his breath short and ragged.

Leia's commlink suddenly beeped, which she answered while keeping her other hand on her son's stump. "Yes?"

"General Organa," said Poe's voice, "we're here!"

"Good," said Leia. "Trace my signal here and sweep the area for Snoke. We have Ky . . . we have my son here and he is in need of medical attention. Hurry!"

"Copy that, General," said Poe.

Several minutes passed with the only sounds being Rey's sobs, Han's breathing machine, and Ben's shallow gasps. It appeared that he was struggling to remain conscious as his eyes flitted between his parents. Han kept stroking his hair, trying to ignore the fact that Ben hadn't actually returned to them.

Finally Poe and several other Resistance members came rushing in with a stretcher hovering between them and 3PO and R2 trailing behind them.

". . . it appears that General Solo must have been in some terrible predicament," 3PO was telling him. "Why he might have even . . . oh my, what has happened here?"

The soldiers lifted Ben up and placed him on the stretcher, where his eyes finally closed, though Han couldn't tell whether or not he had actually passed out.

"Be careful with him!" Leia ordered. "Be _careful!"_

"We will, General," said Poe. He glanced down at Han. "So . . . how are _you_ alive?"

Han couldn't answer. He could only stare after his son.


	20. Chapter 20

AN: As always, thanks to the readers and reviewers! This story's wrapping up now – there will probably be only one or two chapters after this one.

To the guest who asked if I have a Wattpad account, yes I have one, but I only just joined, so as of right now I don't have anything posted there. Whenever I get around to posting stuff there, I'll put a link to my account in my profile here.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 20

Rey sat slumped in the Falcon's cockpit, eyes glazed, hands shaking, her grandfather's lightsaber resting on her lap. It all kept playing through her mind - Kylo's hands flying off, the blood pouring from his stumps, the sheer _rage_ she had felt when the only thing on her mind was killing him. She _would_ have killed him if Luke hadn't taken action.

She would have killed him . . .

The metallic smell of Kylo's blood seemed to be lingering in her nostrils, filling her head with nausea. Sometimes she glanced down at the lightsaber, but she found she couldn't look at it for more than a second without her breath shortening. Initially she had wanted nothing to do with that lightsaber – should she have stuck with that decision?

"Rey?"

Her father's voice, the sound that still tightened her stomach. She couldn't bring herself to look back at him, but he rendered that action unnecessary by sitting next to her. "Rey, are you all right?"

Rey couldn't answer.

Luke let out an extended sigh. "Rey . . ."

"Where are the others?" Rey suddenly asked in a lifeless voice.

Luke sighed again. "They're not going home in the Falcon. Ben's being held in the medical ward of one of the Resistance's ships and Han and Leia don't want to leave him. And Chewie . . . well, he doesn't want to leave Han." He leaned back in his seat. "The droids are also with them, so you and I get to fly the Falcon ourselves."

Rey found herself listening to her every breath. Every inhale, every exhale, every motion Han could no longer make. "I was going to kill him . . ." she whispered, hardly aware that she was doing so.

Luke only gave a slow nod.

Rey's fingers twitched in her lap. "I . . . I felt it . . . the dark side . . . it had me . . . a-and I didn't _care!"_

"I understand," said Luke. "Sweetheart, I faced the dark side too . . ."

"But I _still_ want him dead!" Rey's head whipped up to face her father, whose image was quickly blurring from her tears. "I _know_ I shouldn't . . . I _know_ what that kind of thinking almost did to me . . . but _I want him dead!_ " Tears once more flowed out of her sore eyes. "You were right . . . I'm not strong enough to resist the dark side . . . I almost . . ." A choking sob overtook her words.

Luke gently placed his real hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Rey . . ."

"You _saw_ what he did to Han!" she interrupted through her sobs. "He's going to be like that for the _rest of his life!"_ Her hands were trembling again. "When I thought he was dead, at least he was _dead_ . . . but now . . . I mean, of _course_ I'm happy he's alive . . . but look at what Kylo _did_ to him!"

"I know, I know," said Luke. He gazed into his daughter's eyes. "It broke my heart to see what happened to him too . . . but you can't let your anger overpower you." He swallowed. "It's the burden we Force-sensitives must carry. The dark side is always out there, ready to claim its victims . . . like how it claimed my father . . . and how it claimed Ben . . ."

Rey sniffled. "I-I . . ."

"Shh," said Luke, stroking her shoulder before clearing his throat. "Rey . . . I know you don't think of me as your father yet, but there's something I want to show you." With another gulp, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a datapad. "This . . . this doesn't have Jedi records or anything like that . . . well, just look at it."

After wiping her eyes and taking several long breaths, Rey took the datapad and turned it on. A holo flashed on the screen of a younger, beardless Luke standing next to a woman with a baby in her lap. The woman was just like Luke had described her – light brown skin, thick black hair, bright green eyes, a wide smile.

"Your mother," Luke said in a hushed voice. "Rianna . . ."

"Rianna . . ." Rey repeated, realizing that she hadn't known her mother's name until now.

"She was from Naboo, just like your grandmother," Luke said in a shaky voice. "That beach you remember – the whole family used to vacation on the Naboo beaches."

"The _whole_ family?" Rey had to swallow several times as she stared down at the family holo – _her_ family. A tear fell onto the datapad and she didn't bother wiping it away.

"Yes," Luke said gently. "The _whole_ family. Go to the next holo."

With trembling hands, Rey did so, unprepared for what she saw next. On one side of the holo were her parents in swimsuits, sitting on a beach towel. On the other side were a younger Han and Leia on their own towel, also in swimsuits, brown-haired Han lounging and Leia grinning down at him.

And in the center, there was a teenage boy and a little girl building a sandcastle, both of them laughing.

The datapad fell out of her hands and dropped to the floor.

"H-he . . ." she stuttered, ". . . he . . ."

"Yes," said Luke. "He loved you back then. I think he thought of you more like a little sister than a cousin. He babysat you all the time."

"He _babysat me?"_ Rey shouted, feeling like her stomach had dropped out of her body.

Luke put his hand back on her shoulder. "Rey, he's your cousin and you can't change that, just like how I couldn't change that Vader's my father. You must learn to accept that."

"How?" Rey's voice was barely decipherable through her sobs.

Luke took a deep breath. "I'm going to train you, daughter. I've been letting my fear overpower me, but I can't keep doing that. I can't let fear keep me from helping you."

Father and daughter stared at each other for several long moments, Rey still powerless to keep the tears from flowing. She didn't love Luke – she didn't _know_ Luke even now. If her heart felt like anyone was a father, it was still Han. Though their time together had been brief, they had still connected in a way she had yet to connect with Luke.

But maybe she could still connect with Luke someday.

After an unknown amount of time, she suddenly, nearly unconsciously fell into her father's arms, sobbing into his chest, absorbing his embrace.

. . .

Han and Leia weren't allowed to see their son.

Since Ben was technically a prisoner, the room where he was kept in the ship's medical ward had been declared his current cell and the only ones allowed in there were the medical droids who were treating him. His parents had protested, but to no avail. Ben being their son couldn't change the fact that he was considered a _dangerous_ prisoner, injured or not, hands or no hands.

Now Han was lying in a bed in one of the other medical rooms with Leia and Chewie seated next to him, all anxiously waiting for news on Ben's condition. All they currently knew was that he'd lost a lot of blood and he had yet to regain consciousness.

Han had been gazing up at the ceiling, much like how he used to gaze at the ceiling of Ben's prison cell, blinking, blinking, blinking, his blinks becoming longer and longer. That damn _sound_ contributed to the haze in his mind, in, out, in, out, in, out . . .

"Han, you can sleep if you want."

Han slowly rolled over towards his wife, barely seeing her between blinks. "You . . . you expect me to sleep when our son's in there . . .?"

Leia reached over and ran her fingers through her husband's hair. "We'll wake you if there's any news." She cupped her hand around his ear, bending it gently. "It's all right, I can tell you're exhausted."

Han swallowed as his eyes closed. "What's . . . what's gonna happen to Ben?" he slurred. He was sinking down into sleep, but he remained awake just long enough to hear her response.

"I don't know."

. . .

A loud, persistent beep jolted Han awake. It took a few moments to piece together what was happening, but once he gained enough wakefulness to locate the sound, he realized it was coming from his own chest.

His eyes shot open, his head spinning as if he were about to lose consciousness. "Leia?" he whispered, that single word tightening his throat.

"Han, what's going on?" Leia exclaimed. "Why is that machine beeping?"

A sudden realization hit him, sending chills shooting through his body. "The thing . . . it's gotta be maintained."

"All right, so how do we maintain it?"

"I don't know!" The dizziness kept increasing, so much so that he had to close his eyes again. Was he losing oxygen? How long before the thing just _stopped?_

"Chewie, call the medical droids!" Leia shouted. "And _hurry!"_ She grasped her husband's remaining hand. "It's all right, Han, it's all right, you're going to be fine . . ."

It was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: Well, here it is, the last chapter. I'd like to give an extra special THANK YOU to everyone who's read and reviewed.

"Without a Heart"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 21

Kylo Ren awoke with a sudden, abrupt gasp, his eyes shot open to blinding light. Momentarily he remembered nothing of what happened before he passed out. Where was he? What was he doing here?

"Ben Solo," said a droid's emotionless voice.

"That's NOT my name!" Kylo shouted as best he could through his dry throat.

"Ben Solo," the droid repeated, "you must not move. You have lost a dangerous amount of blood."

Blood . . .

In an instant everything came rushing back into his head. He quickly glanced at one arm, then the other, both of which ended in stumps wrapped up in bandages. The pants bursting out of his mouth quickly turned into a long, loud scream.

"Ben Solo," said the medical droid, "you must stay calm. Getting upset could worsen your condition."

Kylo glared at the droid for one second before shoving it against the wall with the Force. "No," he said, "it could worsen _your_ condition."

Suddenly a voice shouted from the other side of the door. "I don't care about protocol, you're going to LET ME IN THERE NOW! This is a matter of life and death!" With that, the door slid open and his mother came storming in, that old fire he remembered from his childhood back in her eyes.

"Leia Organa," said Kylo. "Here to visit your invalid son?"

"I don't want to hear it, Ben," Leia snapped. "The machine keeping your father alive needs maintenance and you're going to tell us how to maintain it."

"Oh?" said Kylo, stretching his neck in the direction of the broken medical droid. "Can't your _highly capable_ medical droids figure it out?"

"They probably could if they had enough time," said Leia, "but we _don't_ have time. Your father is suffocating as we speak – if you don't tell us how to get the thing working he'll die!"

"Good!" Kylo spat. "I've been wanting that ever since I cut him through!"

The next thing he knew, Leia had her hands on his shoulders, pressing him against the bed and glaring into his eyes. "Ben, I _know_ that's not true. I saw my son back at the monastery – my _real_ son. We need him now."

"You and your husband are both _deluded!"_ Kylo growled.

Leia gently stroked her son's cheek, though her other hand was firmly kept on his shoulder. "Ben . . ."

"All that talk about _forgiveness!"_ he interrupted. "Is imprisoning your handless son your idea of _forgiveness_?"

Leia sighed. "Ben, you're my son and I _do_ forgive you, but justice . . ."

" _Justice,"_ Kylo interrupted again, uttering the word as if it were poisonous. "Well I've already been served _justice_ for what I did to Han Solo, haven't I? A hand for a hand and another hand for a foot. All you need to do now is pierce me with a lightsaber and we'll be even."

" _No one_ is piercing you with a lightsaber," said Leia.

"Why not? It's what I deserve according to _justice,_ isn't it?"

Now Leia's other hand was running through her son's hair. "Ben, we can talk about this later, but right now I need you to tell me how to save your father."

Kylo glared up at his mother, his heavy breath blowing strands of her hair around. "Han Solo is _not_ my father."

"You can say that all you want, but it will still be a lie," said Leia. Her hands slowly moved down his arms until they were loosely grasping his stumps, making him flinch.

"I know it hurts," said Leia, "but letting Han die won't take away the pain. Think about it – did killing your aunt take away the pain? Did massacring the Jedi take away the pain? Did killing your father the _first_ time take away the pain?"

" _I love you, Ben . . ."_

His eyes reflexively squeezed shut, blocking the tears that had unwillingly formed. No . . . no . . . he _wasn't_ going to give in . . . he couldn't . . . the light side was weak . . . and he _wasn't_ weak . . .

" _I love you, Ben . . ."_

"Ben, please," Leia said in a hushed voice. "You can do it . . . don't be afraid . . ."

" _I love you, Ben . . ."_

He ground his teeth, his stumps trembling against his mother's hands. No . . . no . . . _NO . . ._

" _I love you, Ben . . ."_

He screamed.

His eyes opened.

Meeting his mother's gaze.

. . .

" _I hope you're happy, Han Solo. You have broken me."_

" _Ben, c'mon . . ."_

" _You made me WEAK. Weak like you!"_

" _Ben . . ."_

" _You BROKE ME, Han Solo . . ."_

His son's voice faded away, gradually replaced by the _sound_. In, out, in, out . . . damn, his head hurt . . . in, out, in, out . . .

"Han?"

"L-L . . . L-L-Leia?" His throat felt like it had gone for days without water. "L-L-Leia?" His eyelids stretched and pressed, stretched and pressed until finally they opened, gradually blinking his wife's face into focus.

"Han," Leia said in a relieved voice, leaning over and kissing her husband's forehead.

"Wh-Wh . . . What happened?" Han slurred.

"It's all right," said Leia, smiling down at him as if she never wanted to look away again. "We're on Coruscant. You've been out for a few days, but you're all right now."

Han's eyes flitted about, taking in that he was in a hospital bed with Leia seated beside him. "How . . . h-how did you get the thing workin' again?"

Leia momentarily gazed downward, squeezing Han's single hand. "It was Ben . . . he saved you . . . he told us how to keep it maintained."

" _Ben?"_ Han exclaimed, almost shooting up to a sitting position before the swimming in his head stopped him mid-motion. "How is he? Where is he?"

Leia glanced downward again, seeming to take an interest in her husband's fingers as he eased himself back down. "He's healing all right . . . and he's being held prisoner."

"Prisoner?" Han knew he shouldn't be surprised. There would be no way around it after all Ben did, but there was still a dull ache in his stomach.

Leia gave a small nod. "He will be given a fair trial . . . but that probably won't be until after the war's over."

" _Is_ the war over?"

Leia sighed, the creases in her face bending. "Our troops searched Teth and all the nearby systems, but they found no trace of Snoke."

Han swallowed, increasing the soreness in his dry throat. "What . . . what about Ben's hands? Are they gonna let him sit in prison with just a couple of stumps?"

"No," Leia said quickly. "I made sure of it. He's going to get artificial hands as soon as he's healed enough – and if they don't follow through on that they'll have to answer to me. And . . . speaking of which . . ." She glanced towards Han's left. ". . . you might want to look . . ."

A sudden numbness went down Han's body. His head felt frozen in place. Come on, look. He _had_ to look – surely it wouldn't be as bad as when he'd first seen the stump, right?

It took him maybe a full minute, but his head finally inched to the left.

There it was.

If people took only a passing glance, they would simply assume it was his natural hand. A closer look, however, would reveal that something was _off_ about it. It was only one shade of peach all over – no blemishes, no hairs, no wrinkles. Even the fingernails were all exactly the same length and they would never grow. It looked _unnatural._

Once again Han missed the ability to pant. How did he move this hand? Did it move like a regular hand? How he wished he could take a deep breath, but he couldn't, so after a few seconds of hesitation he tried curling the fingers the way he would curl his regular fingers.

They curled.

In an instant he raised the hand in front of his face, opening and closing the fingers. How did they do that? He tried not to think about the circuitry attaching itself to his insides.

"You have a foot too," Leia suddenly said, lifting a corner of the blanket and letting her husband see his new foot. Just like the hand, it was lacking in any blemishes, wrinkles, or anything else that would make it distinctive. The toes still wiggled, but it felt _different._

With a gulp, Han rubbed his real hand over his artificial one, feeling the hardness he already knew from Luke's artificial hand, the hardness that would forever remind him that his real hand was gone.

He couldn't stop his eyes from welling up as he looked up at his wife and slowly, slowly, slowly reached for her with his robotic hand.

It pressed against the cheek he knew so well . . . and he could _sort of_ feel it. He felt softness yielding against the mechanical extremities that were now his fingers, but if he didn't know what he was touching, he probably wouldn't have recognized the softness as Leia's cheek.

"Leia . . ." he whispered.

It was the only word he could get out before the tears started flowing.

. . .

"Rey, wake up."

Rey slowly opened her eyes, having fallen asleep slumped on one of the chairs in the hospital waiting room. Her father was shaking her shoulder, an actual smile on his face.

"What's going on . . .?" she asked with a yawn, stretching her sore neck.

Luke's smile grew wider. "Han's awake."

Those two little words were enough to make Rey completely forget about her sleepiness. She bolted out of the chair and ran towards the turbolift without even waiting for her father, though he managed to catch up with her before the turbolift doors closed. The ride up took only a few seconds, but it might as well have been hours for the tenseness in Rey's stomach. Once it stopped, she ran down the hall straight for Han's room, where the patient was chatting with Chewie and Leia.

"HAN!" she shouted, throwing her arms around him, barely remembering to give the tube in his neck enough room.

"Hey, hey, don't smother me," Han said with a raspy laugh, returning the embrace, giving one side of Rey's back the feeling of soft fingers and the other the feeling of hard mechanical parts.

"I won't," said Rey, pulling out of the hug and gazing down at her uncle – weak, crippled, but _alive._ "Han . . . _Uncle_ Han . . ."

"Uncle Han," Han repeated, "I remember when you used to call me that – though it was in a bit more of a baby talk way."

Rey gulped. "Uncle Han . . . I'm . . . I'm _so_ sorry about what I did . . . I . . . I don't even know how to talk about it . . ."

"Neither do I," said Han, sudden sorrow in his voice. He held up his mechanical hand. "But Leia says Ben's gonna get a couple of these . . . I guess he'll get used to it after a while."

"He will," said Luke, holding up his own artificial hand. "You both will, but it will take a while."

Just then, one of the human doctors entered the room, her hands clasped together as if she had prepared a surprise for the group. "Miss Skywalker?" she asked.

Rey automatically looked up, surprising herself when she realized that she had responded to her last name. Perhaps that was a first step. "What?"

The doctor smiled at her. "I hate to interrupt the reunion, but someone _else_ is awake and you might want to see him."

Rey's stomach dropped. "Finn?"

The doctor nodded.

Han grinned at his niece. "Go on, go see him. Tell the big deal I said hi."

. . .

Rey's heart sped up as she entered Finn's room. Instead of the comatose body she had become so used to, he was sitting up, a tray of food in his lap, taking small bites of food as if he were trying to get used to eating again.

"Finn!" she exclaimed.

Finn looked up and a huge grin instantly burst onto his face. "Rey?"

"Finn!" Rey repeated, running up to him and throwing her arms around him.

"Hey . . . whoa . . . careful!" said Finn in a laughing voice. "Recovering from a coma here!"

"Yes, yes," said Rey, taking a deep breath and relaxing her grip. "Are you all right?"

"I think," said Finn. "The doctor said I've been out for a while – like more than a month." He cocked his head at her. "So . . . what all did I miss?"

Rey grinned at him. "You're never going to believe it . . ."

. . .

Kylo Ren lay in his cell's bed, staring into the endless darkness, his stumps buried under the covers but never letting him forget about their existence. If he ever saw his cousin again, he would . . . what? Kill her? He _should_ kill her – and Han Solo, and everyone else. Snoke's orders didn't matter anymore – he had left Kylo to get captured and Kylo owed him nothing.

But if he _did_ see his cousin again, _could_ he kill her? Could he kill _any_ of them? He _did_ kill Han Solo once . . . so why did he doubt himself now?

He bit his lip. Han Solo would have already died were it not for his weakness. Why did he let that weakness overtake him? Why _didn't_ he just let his father die?

"Grandfather," he whispered in a shaky voice, "I'm sorry. I failed. I was weak." He blinked into the darkness as if his grandfather could be seen if he just focused hard enough. "Please, Grandfather, I need you. Help me banish the light, help me be strong again. Please . . . _please,_ Grandfather, _help me!"_

But again his grandfather was silent. Instead, the words came again, the words that couldn't be snuffed out no matter how hard he tried.

" _I love you, Ben . . ."_

. . .

After some long arguments with the doctors, Leia got permission to sleep with Han in his hospital bed – at least for that night. Despite the years apart, Han gave Leia his familiar dreamy smile when she emerged from the refresher in a nightshirt, the same smile he'd given her many other nights.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked.

His smile faded. "Well, we don't have to do it if _you_ don't want to . . ."

" _I_ want to," Leia said quickly. "I've been wanting to for ages."

"So have I," said Han, reaching up and stroking her arm. "So _damn_ much."

A snicker escaped Leia's lips. "All right, Flyboy – just remember your muscles aren't strong enough for sex yet. Better learn how to walk again first."

"I dunno if we'll _ever_ be able to have sex with this thing in my chest," said Han.

Leia smirked. "I'm sure we'll find a way, but don't worry about it right now."

He kept gazing at her as she climbed into bed next to him, trying to ignore the breathing noise, though her eyes automatically went to the spot where his hospital robe was open at the top to let the neck tube connect to the machine. "Han . . . does that thing _hurt?"_

"Yes," Han said without hesitation. "All the time, but it's a kinda dull pain, the kind you can usually ignore. _Usually."_

Leia gently placed her hand on the spot where Han's heart used to be, remembering how she used to rest her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. "I wish I knew what to say . . ."

Han reached over and stroked her shoulder with his new artificial hand, bringing slight pain with his hard fingers. "Well . . ." he said awkwardly, ". . . look on the bright side, at least my snoring won't bother you anymore."

Leia snickered. "I actually missed your snoring." She eased herself into a lying position, gazing into his eyes. "Han . . . do you think our family might actually heal now?"

Han looked like he wanted to sigh even though he couldn't. "I dunno. With Ben in prison, who knows _what's_ gonna happen with him?" He slowly put his real hand on her cheek. "But I know one thing – I know _I_ ain't goin' anywhere."

Leia placed her hand on top of Han's. "That's what I wanted to hear."

The couple lay in the dark for hours before sleep overtook them, knowing everything was different now but feeling that they could handle the future now that they were truly together again.

THE END

AN: So ends another story, but I think I might write a short sequel of sorts. It would only be a few chapters long and it would deal with the different characters adjusting to their new lives. I'm also going to return to my "Defenders of the Force" series and write another short story or two.

Thanks again!


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